This is the secret of security, like a steak under cellophane: to surround you with a sarcophagus in order to prevent you from dying.
This is the secret of security, like a steak under cellophane: to surround you with a sarcophagus in order to prevent you from dying.
“Where, where are now the great reports
Of those huge haugthy earth-born giants?
Where are the lofty tow’rs and forts
Of those proud kings bade Heav’n defiance?
When them I to my mind revoke,
Methinks I see a mighty smoke
Thick mounting from quick-burning matter
Which in an instant winds do scatter.”
Joshua Sylvester | “Fuimus Fumus”