Love Is The Only Thing

I Believe In The Compelling Power Of Love.

Words Are But The Vague Shadows Of The Volumes We Mean. Little Audible Links, They Are, Chaining Together Great Inaudible Feelings And Purposes.

We Are To Have No Pictures Which The Puritan And The Narrow, Animated By An Obsolete Dogma, Cannot Approve Of. We Are To Have No Theaters No Motion Pictures, No Books, No Public Exhibitions Of Any Kind, No Speech Even Which Will Anyway Contravene His Limited View Of Life.

Our Civilization Is Still In A Middle Stage, Scarcely Beast, In That It Is No Longer Wholly Guided By Instinct; Scarcely Human, In That It Is Not Yet Wholly Guided By Reason.

Life Is A God-damned, Stinking, Treacherous Game And Nine Hundred And Ninety-nine Men Out Of A Thousand Are Bastards.