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there are men whom one hates until a certain moment when one sees, through a chink in their armor, the writhing of something nailed down in torment. Radiant winds scream o'er barren walls Spreading languid Death. The wreckage of youth hold sway o'er Time's Halls. Walking parallel along Eternity's Breadth. Farewell to the Ruling Classes: Welcome to Civilization's Repast. Tread lightly o'er the Beliefs of the Masses. Gone now are earthly religions, colors and castes. Hate spawns Young Minds To calculate methodically