We have forgotten that our sovereign duty is to leave the world in a better condition than when we each entered it

Perhaps the greatest myth being purveyed, is that myths are just myths.

...Khufu who is believed to have been the pharaoh who commissioned the building of the great pyramid at Giza.

Because you're not thinking about existence and being, you're not really thinking at all.

We must move "out of our mind" and dwell in our consciousness.

The Romans dominated Egypt for four hundred years, from the time of Augustus (30 BC to 395 AD).

[...] evidence is now coming out showing that Egypt was colonized by Western people over 15,000 years ago.

It is still an act of academic heresy to regard Egypt as the cradle of civilization and originator of Jewish and Christian religious traditions.

We don't really think that man is that immoral, we don't think that man of his own nature would run around...fighting wars and building napalm bombs...so maybe there's something else going on

In the vast majority of cases the secret society symbolism hearkens from two places - Ireland and Egypt.

The origins of Judeo-Christianity are to be found in Egypt.

The soulless have no need of melancholia

Whatever time mother goes to heaven, it is always too soon. Fortunately, she is forever.

Don't worry. You'll find your message in your mess.

It's fun to be a little bit different in the world, to make a few new trails of your own.

Raisins are a thing that lasts, they come in small boxes, and you always feel like eating raisins, even at six in the morning. A raisin is always an appropriate snack.

That, let us rail at women, scorn and flout 'em, We may live with, but cannot live without 'em.

The kind of über-objective is to make people laugh. You always have to have that in the back of your mind, "Eh, I've got to figure out a way to make this funny."

Cancer is a word, not a sentence.

When the end comes, dark and hungry I'll be alone, love When the end comes, black and starving I'll say good-bye, love.-from Golden Tongue: The Poems of Steven Slaughter

The middle years of life come on like thunder.