All Roads Lead To The Earth; The

My Entire Soul Is A Cry, And All My Work Is A Commentary On That Cry.

Monarch Of Earth, I Shall Confess My Secret Craft: I've Always Fought To Purify Wild Flame To Light, And Kindle Whatever Light I Found To Burst In Flame.

May He Be Cursed On Earth Who Gives His Trust To Virtue, That Bankrupt Crone Who Takes Our Life's Pure Gold And Gives But Bad Receipts For Payment In The Lower World. Ah, Passers-by That Stroll, Travelers That Come And Go, All That I Had, I Placed On Virtue, And Lost The Game!

Go As Far As You Can. Go Further Than You Can!

There's A Devil Inside Me Which Cries, "you're Not The Son Of The Carpenter, You're The Son Of King David! You Are Not A Man, You Are The Son Of Man Whom Daniel Prophesied." And Still More: "the Son Of God! And Still More: God!