Now What I Love In

Send Me No More Reviews Of Any Kind. I Will Read No More Of Evil Or Good In That Line. Walter Scott Has Not Read A Review Of Himself For Thirteen Years .

I Awoke One Morning And Found Myself Famous.

By Headless Charles See Heartless Henry Lies.

The Thorns Which I Have Reap'd Are Of The Tree I Planted; They Have Torn Me, And I Bleed. I Should Have Known What Fruit Would Spring From Such A Seed.

The Basis Of Your Religion Is Injustice. The Son Of God The Pure, The Immaculate, The Innocent, Is Sacrificed For The Guilty. This Proves His Heroism, But No More Does Away With Man's Sin Than A School Boy's Volunteering To Be Flogged For Another Would Exculpate A Dunce From Negligence.