Well, So It Must Be, For As

Rome Was Mud And Smoky Skies; The Rank Smell Of The Tiber And The Exotically Spiced Cooking Fires Of A Hundred Different Nationalities. Rome Was White Marble And Gilding And Heady Perfumes; The Blare Of Trumpets And The Shrieking Of Market-women And The Eternal, Sub-aural Hum Of More People, Speaking More Languages Than Gaius Had Ever Imagined Existed, Crammed Together On Seven Hills Whose Contours Had Long Ago Disappeared Beneath This Encrustation If Humanity. Rome Was The Pulsing Heart Of The World.

A Priestess Of Avalon Does Not Lie. But I Am Cast Out Of Avalon, And For This, And Unless It Is All To Be For Nothing, I Must Lie, And Lie Well And Quickly

A Friend Of Ours Has A Hobby Doing Genealogy, And We Found Out That We Were Cousins In The Ninth Degree, That We Had A Common Ancestor On The Mayflower.

All Gods Are One God.

There Are Ignorant Priests And Ignorant People, Who Are All Too Ready To Cry Sorcery If A Woman Is Only A Little Wiser Than They Are!