There's No Friends Like The Old Friends.

Imagine Some Foul And Putrid Corpse That Has Lain Rotting And Decomposing In The Grave, A Jelly-like Mass Of Liquid Corruption. Imagine Such A Corpse A Prey To Flames, Devoured By The Fire Of Burning Brimstone And Giving Off Dense Choking Fumes Of Nauseous Loathsome Decomposition. And Then Imagine This Sickening Stench, Multiplied A Millionfold And A Millionfold Again From The Millions Upon Millions Of Fetid Carcasses Massed Together In The Reeking Darkness, A Huge And Rotting Human Fungus. Imagine All This, And You Will Have Some Idea Of The Horror Of The Stench Of Hell.

Let My Country Die For Me.

There Is No Heresy Or No Philosophy Which Is So Abhorrent To The Church As A Human Being.

Read Your Own Obituary Notice; They Say You Live Longer. Gives You Second Wind. New Lease Of Life.

Think You're Escaping And Run Into Yourself. Longest Way Round Is The Shortest Way Home.