Why Wait For Death To Mow? Why

Our Minds Can Go No Further. The Human Imagination Is Capable Of No Further Expression Of Beauty Than The Carved Owl Of Athene, The Archaic, Marble Serpent, The Arrogant Selfish Head Of The Acropolis Apollo.

O Ruthless, Perilous, Imperious Hate, You Can Not Thwart The Promptings Of My Soul.

The Quivering Of Psyche's Butterflies.

I Spit Honey Out Of My Mouth: Nothing Is Second-best After The Sweet Of Eros.

The Heart The Heart The Heart How It Thrives On Hate.