The Goddess Does Not Shower

A Babe At The Breast Is As Much Pleasure As The Bearing Is Pain.

Rome Was Mud And Smoky Skies; The Rank Smell Of The Tiber And The Exotically Spiced Cooking Fires Of A Hundred Different Nationalities. Rome Was White Marble And Gilding And Heady Perfumes; The Blare Of Trumpets And The Shrieking Of Market-women And The Eternal, Sub-aural Hum Of More People, Speaking More Languages Than Gaius Had Ever Imagined Existed, Crammed Together On Seven Hills Whose Contours Had Long Ago Disappeared Beneath This Encrustation If Humanity. Rome Was The Pulsing Heart Of The World.

The Older I Grow The More I Become Certain That It Makes No Difference What Words We Use To Tell The Same Truths.

Speak Not Against Anyone Whose Burden You Have Not Weighed Yourself.

There Are Ignorant Priests And Ignorant People, Who Are All Too Ready To Cry Sorcery If A Woman Is Only A Little Wiser Than They Are!