Without A Function, We Cease To Be.

We Have Doomed The Wolf Not For What It Is, But For What We Deliberately And Mistakenly Perceive It To Be –the Mythologized Epitome Of A Savage Ruthless Killer – Which Is, In Reality, No More Than A Reflected Image Of Ourself.

On My 70th Birthday, I Was Asked How I Felt About Mankind's Prospects. This Is My Reply: We Are Behaving Like Yeasts In A Brewer's Vat, Multiplying Mindlessly While Greedily Consuming The Substance Of A Finite World. If We Continue To Imitate The Yeasts, We Will Perish As They Perish, Having Exhausted Our Resources And Poisoned Ourselves In The Lethal Brew Of Our Own Wastes. Unlike The Yeasts, We Have A Choice. What Will It Be?

Truth I Have No Trouble With, It's The Facts I Get All Screwed Up.

Don't Let The Facts Interfere With The Truth.

Ah Me Son, We Don't Be Takin' Nothin' From The Sea. We Has To Sneak Up On What We Wants And Wiggle It Away