Wherever He Goes, Whatever He Does, He

As Soon As I Find Myself In The Presence Of A Rich Man, I Cannot Help Looking Upon Him As An Exceptional And Beautiful Being, As A Sort Of Marvellous Divinity, And, In Spite Of Myself, Surmounting My Will And My Reason, I Feel Rising, From The Depths Of My Being, Toward This Rich Man, Who Is Very Often An Imbecile, And Sometimes A Murderer, Something Like An Incense Of Admiration. Is It Not Stupid? And Why? Why?

‎the Greatest Danger Of A Terrorist's Bomb Is In The Explosion Of Stupidity That It Provokes.

Nature’s Constantly Screaming With All Its Shapes And Scents: Love Each Other! Love Each Other! Do As The Flowers. There’s Only Love.

Murder Is Born Of Love, And Love Attains The Greatest Intensity In Murder.

Woman Possesses The Cosmic Force Of An Element, An Invincible Force Of Destruction, Like Nature's. She Is, In Herself Alone, All Nature! Being The Matrix Of Life, She Is By That Very Fact The Matrix Of Death - Since It Is From Death That Life Is Perpetually Reborn, And Since To Annihilate Death Would Be To Kill Life At Its Only Fertile Source.