Mistakes Are The Portals Of

Shakespeare Is The Happy Hunting Ground Of All Minds That Have Lost Their Balance.

The Heaventree Of Stars Hung With Humid Nightblue Fruit.

I Have Left My Book, I Have Left My Room, For I Heard You Singing Through The Gloom.

We Are An Unfortunate Priest-ridden Race And Always Were And Always Will Be Tell The End Of The Chapter.... A Priest-ridden Godforsaken Race.

We Are All Born In The Same Way But We All Die In Different Ways.