On Commissary Goldie’s Brains
Lord, to account who dares thee call,
Or e’er dispute thy pleasure?
Else why, within so thick a wall,
Enclose so poor a treasure?
On Commissary Goldie’s Brains
Lord, to account who dares thee call,
Or e’er dispute thy pleasure?
Else why, within so thick a wall,
Enclose so poor a treasure?
Prosperity knits a man to the world. He feels that he is finding his place in it, while really it…
Religion can get on with any sort of astronomy, geology, biology, physics. But it cannot get on with a purposeless…
The tyrant dies and his rule is over, the martyr dies and his rule begins.