No Man Can Be Convinced When He

Before The Invader Sound Was Born, The Universe Was Silent And Shall Be Again.

There Comes, Even To Kings, The Time Of Great Weariness. Then The Gold Of The Throne Is Brass, The Silk Of The Palace Becomes Drab. The Gems In The Diadem And Upon The Fingers Of The Women Sparkle Drearily Like The Ice Of White Seas; The Speech Of Men Is As The Empty Rattle Of A Jester's Bell And The Feel Comes Of Things Unreal; Even The Sun Is Copper In The Sky And The Breath Of The Green Ocean Is No Longer Fresh.

I'll Say One Thing About An Oil Boom; It Will Teach A Kid That Life's A Pretty Rotten Thing As Quick As Anything I Can Think Of.

Barbarianism Is The Natural State Of Mankind. Civilization Is Unnatural. It Is The Whim Of Circumstance. And Barbarianism Must Ultimately Triumph

Over The Souls Of Men Spread The Condor Wings Of Colossal Monsters And All Manner Of Evil Things Prey Upon The Heart And Soul And Body Of Man. Yet It May Be In Some Far Day The Shadows Shall Fade And The Prince Of Darkness Be Chained Forever In His Hell. And Till Then Mankind Can But Stand Up Stoutly To The Monsters In His Own Heart And Without, And With The Aid Of God He May Yet Triumph.