It Is One Thing To

I Hear Seven Cities Natives Grow Fruit Just So They Can Eat The Larvae In Them.

Evil Is Nothing But A Word, An Objectification Where No Objectification Is Necessary. Cast Aside This Notion Of Some External Agency As The Source Of Inconceivable Inhumanity - The Sad Truth Is Our Possession Of An Innate Proclivity Towards Indifference, Towards Deliberate Denial Of Mercy, Towards Disengaging All That Is Moral Within Us. But If That Is Too Dire , Let's Call It Evil. And Paint It With Fire And Venom.

So You Say, With Your Shiny Hair And Pouty Lips - And Those Breasts - Just Wait Till You Start Dropping Whelps, They'll Be At Your Ankles One Day, Big As They Are - Not The Whelps, The Breasts. The Whelps Will Be In Your Hair - No, Not The Shiny Hair On Your Head, Well, Yes, That Hair, But Only As A Manner Of Speech.

Power Is Violence, Its Promise, Its Deed. Power Cares Nothing For Reason, Nothing For Justice, Nothing For Compassion. It Is, In Fact, The Singular Abnegation Of These Things - Once The Cloak Of Deceits Is Stripped Away, This One Truth Is Revealed.

None Could Guess My Confusion, My Host Of Deluded Illusions And Elusive Delusions! A Mantle Of Marble Hiding A Crumbling Core Of Sandstone. See How They Stare At Me, Wondering, All Wondering, At My Secret Wellspring Of Wisdom...' Let's Kill Him,' Crokus Muttered, 'if Only To Put Him Out Of Our Misery.