We Kill Everybody, My Dear.

Everywhere, Within Man And Without, There Is Devastation, Instability, Chaos, And Evidence Of Some Prolonged Rout.

It Is Quiet And Peaceful Here, The Air Is Good, There Are Numerous Gardens, And In Them Nightingales Sing And Spies Lurk Under The Bushes.

If It Is True That Only Misfortune Can Awaken A Man's Soul, It Is A Bitter Truth, One That Is Hard To Hear And Accept, And It Is Only Natural That Many People Deny It And Say It Is Better For A Man To Live On In A Trance Than To Wake Up To Torture.

Our Salvation Is In Work, But Let Us Also Take Delight In That Work.

An Honest Man Is All Right Even If He's An Idiot...but A Crook Must Have Brains.