Eternity - Waste Of Time.

A Scholar's Heart Is A Dark Well In Which Are Buried Many Aborted Feelings That Rise To The Surface As Arguments.

We Know All Their Gods; They Ignore Ours. What They Call Our Sins Are Our Gods, And What They Call Their Gods, We Name Otherwise.

Doubt Seems The Only Purity For Those Who Are Too Fervent To Deny, And Too Lucid To Affirm.

All Expression, All Art, Is An Indiscretion We Commit Against Ourselves. This Is Not An 'impoverishment' But An Increase In Wealth, For It Is In This Way That We Make The Short Hours Of Our Lives Live On Beyond Themselves.

If Only Art Were As Rare As Good Taste.