neuterallrednecks

Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have Immortal longings in me

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door

As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods; they kill us for their sport

A celibate clergy is an especially good idea, because it tends to suppress any hereditary propensity toward fanaticism

By education most have been misled; So they believe, because they were bred. The priest continues where the nurse began, And thus the child imposes on the man

Living Life Tomorrow's fate, though thou be wise, Thou canst not tell nor yet surmise; Pass, therefore, not today in vain, For it will never come again

All that we are not stares back at what we are