If I Thought I Could Win One

While There Remains One Dark Soul Without The Light Of God, I'll Fight - I'll Fight To The Very End!

If I Thought I Could Win One More Soul To The Lord By Walking On My Head And Playing The Tambourine With My Toes, I'd Learn How!

A Man's Labor Is Not Only His Capital But His Life. When It Passes It Returns Never More. To Utilize It, To Prevent Its Wasteful Squandering, To Enable The Poor Man To Bank It Up For Use Hereafter, This Surely Is One Of The Most Urgent Tasks Before Civilization.

The Profession Of A Prostitute Is The Only Career In Which The Maximum Income Is Paid To The Newest Apprentice. It Is The One Calling In Which At The Beginning The Only Exertion Is That Of Self-indulgence; All The Prizes Are At The Commencement. It Is The Ever-new Embodiment Of The Old Fable Of The Sale Of The Soul To The Devil. The Tempter Offers Wealth, Comfort, Excitement, But In Return The Victim Must Sell Her Soul, Nor Does The Other Party Forget To Exact His Due To The Uttermost Farthing.

There Appears To Be A Deeply Embedded Uneasiness In Our Culture About Throwing Away Junk That Can Be Reused. Perhaps, In Part, It Is Guilt About Consumption. Perhaps It Also Feels Unnatural. Mother Nature Doesn't Throw Stuff Away. Dead Trees, Birds, Beetles And Elephants Are Pretty Quickly Recycled By The System.