a foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. with consistency a great soul simply has nothing to do. he may as well concern himself with the shadow on the wall. speak what you think now in hard words, and tomorrow speak what tomorrow thinks in hard words. again though it contradict everything you said today. ” ah, so you shall be misunderstood.” is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood? montaigne was misunderstood, leonardo was misunderstood, emerson was misunderstood, michelangelo was misunderstood, plato was misunderstood, zoroaster was misunderstood. and every pure and wise spirit that took flesh. to be great is to be misunderstood.

man bows down before this alter of food and yet he is never filled, honey i found something better. i remember that great day when early in the morning you rose; you made up your mind that you would come around; you knocked on my door, as i lay on the floor, we drank those heavenly waters, i gave you my heart, my body and my soul. our spirits intermingled as together we became one those heavenly gates were flung wide open, the sea burst forth with a loud roar that great light flashed before our eyes.

i laid ya down like a regina speeding as the limbs of achilles this moment passed us by, this dream was short-lived as the life of patroclus. we fought bravely many valiant souls descended down to hades, honey one will fall one will rise. there can only be one winner to take the prize. this love will endure beyond the annals of the trojan war. and so i sing heavenly muse of that destructive wrath, that wrath of mighty zeus, as subtle as the winds that blow. none can understand these mysteries of love for through one evil infinite good sprouts forth darling heaven we find through hell.

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