No Man Can Be Convinced

We're Making Tin Gods Out Of Those Poor Buffoons In Hollywood; I Dote On Movies And Appreciate The Scanty Art Therein But I Consider The Profession About The Most Debased And Debasing I Know.

A Woman In Such An Emotional Tempest Is As Perilous As A Blind Cobra To Any About Her.

While We May Open The Books Of The Past, We May But Grant Flying Glances Of The Future, Through The Mist That Veils It.

It Was No Ape, Neither Was It A Man. It Was Some Shambling Horror Spawned In The Mysterious, Nameless Jungles Of The South, Where Strange Life Teemed In The Reeking Rot Without The Dominance Of Man, And Drums Thundered In Temples That Had Never Known The Tread Of A Human Foot.

I Live, I Burn With Life, I Love, I Slay, & Am Content.