My Father Was Very Intense, Passionate And

There Are Two Ways To Worry Words. One Is Hoping For The Greatest Possible Beauty In What Is Created. The Other Is To Tell The Truth.

Our Children Will Not Survive Our Habits Of Thinking, Our Failures Of The Spirit, Our Wreck Of The Universe Into Which We Bring New Life As Blithely As We Do. Mostly, Our Children Will Resemble Our Own Misery And Spite And Anger, Because We Give Them No Choice About It. In The Name Of Motherhood And Fatherhood And Education And Good Manners, We Threaten And Suffocate And Bind And Ensnare And Bribe And Trick Children Into Wholesale Emulation Of Our Ways.

To Tell The Truth Is To Become Beautiful, To Begin To Love Yourself, Value Yourself. And That's Political, In Its Most Profound Way.

We Do Not Deride The Fears Of Prospering White America. A Nation Of Violence And Private Property Has Every Reason To Dread The Violated And The Deprived.

I Believe That Love Is The Single, True Prosperity Of Any Moment.