This is a world which denies the soul. I shall not. Not in my writing, not in my listening, not in my speaking, not in my being.
To Hell with Hell, Heaven here I come and here I am. I am as God made me, naked before the world, and I would not have it otherwise.
Feelings are born to be given expression to, that is what it means to be alive, oh death, where is thy sting? Pallid death on a page shall not exist in my writing, only life and the life giving force, to which I may or may not give a name, but let me say it or he is the essence of all things.
The bare essentials are good enough for me, clothed though they may be in fact or fancy, such clothing should and must be an expression of the spirit, rather than a denial of it.
The truth stands naked and unashamed, glorious and beautiful in its nakedness and nudity, so are we when we are true.
Hear it in music, see it in art, feel it in your soul, give expression to it in your life. To live or to die, that is the choice. I make mine.