Fear Of Death Is Worse

Secrecy Is For The Happy,--misery, Hopeless Misery, Needs No Veil; Under A Thousand Suns It Dares Act Openly.

The Lemonade Is Weak, Like Your Soul.

O The Eye's Light Is A Noble Gift Of Heaven! All Beings Live From Light, Each Fair Created Thing; The Very Plants Turn With A Joyful Transport To The Light.

Joy, Thou Spark From Heav'n Immortal, Daughter Of Elysium! Drunk With Fire, Toward Heaven Advancing Goddess, To Thy Shrine We Come. Thy Sweet Magic Brings Together What Stern Custom Spreads Afar; All Men Become Brothers Where Thy Happy Wing-beats Are.

When The Wine Goes In, Strange Things Come Out.