The Scapegoat Has Always Had

A Man's Passion For The Mountain Is, Above All, His Childhood Which Refuses To Die.

Where Does Discipline End? Where Does Cruelty Begin? Somewhere Between These, Thousands Of Children Inhabit A Voiceless Hell.

Doubt Is Nothing But A Trivial Agitation On The Surface Of The Soul, While Deep Down There Is A Calm Certainty.

If You Would Tell Me The Heart Of A Man, Tell Me Not What He Reads, But What He Rereads.

The Man Who Partakes In The Breaking Of The Bread Dares To Build His House On The Very Core Of Love. He Becomes, As It Were, Godlike, But Regardless Of The Strength He Derives From It, His Free Will Remains. We Are Always Free To Disown This Immense Grace, To Abuse It. The Greatest Love May Be Betrayed. Fed On The Living Bread, We Nevertheless Conceal A Part Of Ourselves Which Longs For Swine's Food.