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Thought's infidelity lies in its privacy. 'If there is something that you cannot say to me,' asks the lover, 'things that you must think alone, then can you really be trusted?'
Gentlemen,what are the Four pillars?Travesty,Horror,Decadence,Excrement.
The act of painting is an act of communion.
You can be the ripest, juiciest peach in the world, and there's still going to be somebody who hates peaches.