He Was The Average Mortal. It Troubled

When God Had Made The Man, He Made Him Out Of Stuff That Sung All The Time And Glittered All Over. Some Angels Got Jealous And Chopped Him Into Millions Of Pieces, But Still He Glittered And Hummed. So They Beat Him Down To Nothing But Sparks But Each Little Spark Had A Shine And A Song. So They Covered Each One Over With Mud. And The Lonesomeness In The Sparks Make Them Hunt For One Another.

I Feel Most Colored When I Am Thrown Against A Sharp White Background.

We Must Learn To Be Honest With Ourselves, And Know Our Shortcomings. We Will Acquire Cohesion But We Will Pay Dearly For Being A Slow Pupil.

Such As I Am, I Am A Precious Gift.

Gods Always Behave Like The People Who Make Them.