Love Is The Garment Of

I Write For One And Only One Purpose, To Overcome The Invincible Ignorance Of The Traduced Heart. I Wish To Speak To And For Those Who Have Had Enough Of The Social Lie, The Economics Of Mass Murder, The Sexual Hoax, And The Domestication Of Conspicuous Consumption.

Art Is The Reasoned Derangement Of The Senses.

The Holiness Of The Real Is Always There, Accessible In Total Immanence. The Nodes Of Transcendence Coagulate In You, The Experiencer, And In The Other, The Lover.

You Learn Nothing If You Carry With You A Journalistic System Of Values, Which Is Invented To Save Reporters From Experience.

The Mature Man Lives Quietly, Does Good Privately, Takes Responsibility For His Actions, Treats Others With Friendliness And Courtesy, Finds Mischief Boring And Avoids It. Without The Hidden Conspiracy Of Goodwill, Society Would Not Endure An Hour.