Welly, Welly, Welly, Welly, Welly, Welly, Well.

And, My Brothers, It Was Real Satisfaction To Me To Waltz-left Two Three, Right Two Three-and Carve Left Cheeky And Right Cheeky, So That Like Two Curtains Of Blood Seemed To Pour Out At The Same Time, One On Either Side Of His Fat Filthy Oily Snout In The Winter Starlight.

Do They Merit Vitriol, Even A Drop Of It? Yes, Because They Corrupt The Young, Persuading Them That The Mature World, Which Produced Beethoven And Schweitzer, Sets An Even Higher Value On The Transient Anodynes Of Youth Than Does Youth Itself.... They Are The Hollow Men. They Are Electronic Lice.

Every Dogma Has Its Day.

Life Is A Wretched Gray Saturday, But It Has To Be Lived Through.

This Must Be A Real Horrorshow Film If You're So Keen On My Viddying It.