I Don't Believe In Charity. I Believe

So Many Stories, And To Choose Which Ones To Tell And How To Tell Them. The Words, They Will Tap Me On The Shoulder And They Will Speak To Me: Tell Me! Tell Me! The Stories Choose Me.

The Walls Are The Publishers Of The Poor.

Utopia Lies At The Horizon. When I Draw Nearer By Two Steps, It Retreats Two Steps. If I Proceed Ten Steps Forward, It Swiftly Slips Ten Steps Ahead. No Matter How Far I Go, I Can Never Reach It. What, Then, Is The Purpose Of Utopia? It Is To Cause Us To Advance.

The Big Bankers Of The World, Who Practise The Terrorism Of Money, Are More Powerful Than Kings And Field Marshals, Even More Than The Pope Of Rome Himself. They Never Dirty Their Hands. They Kill No-one: They Limit Themselves To Applauding The Show.

The Tree Of Life Knows That, Whatever Happens, The Warm Music Spinning Around It Will Never Stop. However Much Death May Come, However Much Blood May Flow, The Music Will Dance Men And Women As Long As The Air Breaths Them And The Land Plows And Loves Them.