Religion, Too, Is A Weapon. What Manner

The Future Remains Uncertain And So It Should, For It Is The Canvas Upon Which We Paint Our Desires. Thus Always The Human Condition Faces A Beautifully Empty Canvas. We Possess Only This Moment In Which To Dedicate Ourselves Continuously To The Sacred Presence Which We Share And Create.

The Clear And Safe Path Leads Evermore Into Stagnation

The Summer Night Comes Brooding Down On Earth, As Love Comes Brooding Down On Human Hearts, With Bliss That Hath No Utterance Save Rich Tears. She Floats In Fragrance Down The Smiling Dark, Foldeth A Kiss Upon The Lips Of Life-- Curtaineth Into Rest The Weary World-- And Shuts Us In With All Our Hid Delights.

His Voice Was Low, Charged With Unspeakable Adjectives.

The Meeting Between Ignorance And Knowledge, Between Brutality And Culture - It Begins In The Dignity With Which We Treat The Dead