The True Artist Can Only Labor Con

Where Would The Shout Of Love Begin, If Not From The Summit Of Sacrifice?

Genuflection Before The Idol Or The Dollar Destroys The Muscles Which Walk And The Will That Moves.

Promise To Give Me A Kiss On My Brow When I Am Dead.--i Shall Feel It.

Puns Are The Droppings Of Soaring Wits.

Whom Man Kills, Him God Restoreth To Life.