Why, Flowers Are Violent, Cruel, Terrible And

Sheep Run To The Slaughterhouse, Silent And Hopeless, But At Least Sheep Never Vote For The Butcher Who Kills Them Or The People Who Devour Them. More Beastly Than Any Beast, More Sheepish Than Any Sheep, The Voter Names His Own Executioner And Chooses His Own Devourer, And For This Precious "right" A Revolution Was Fought.

The Universe Appears To Me Like An Immense, Inexorable Torture-garden…passions, Greed, Hatred, And Lies; Social Institutions, Justice, Love, Glory, Heroism, And Religion: These Are Its Monstrous Flowers And Its Hideous Instruments Of Eternal Human Suffering.

Come Now, Don't Make Such A Funeral Face. It Isn't Dying That's Sad; It's Living When You're Not Happy.

Wherever He Goes, Whatever He Does, He Will Always See That Word: Murder—immortally Inscribed Upon The Pediment Of That Vast Slaughterhouse—humanity.

‎the Greatest Danger Of A Terrorist's Bomb Is In The Explosion Of Stupidity That It Provokes.