Truths Are Illlusions Which We Have Forgotten

Whatever The State Saith Is A Lie; Whatever It Hath Is A Theft: All Is Counterfeit In It, The Gnawing, Sanguinary, Insatiate Monster.

The Higher We Soar The Smaller We Appear To Those Who Cannot Fly.

Call Me Whatever You Like; I Am Who I Must Be.

I Love Him Whose Soul Is So Overfull That He Forgetteth Himself, And All Things Are In Him: Thus All Things Become His Down-going.

Instinct. When The House Burns One Forgets Even Lunch. Yes, But One Eats It Later In The Ashes.