100,000 CIGARETTE BUTTS

 

The summer’s flower is to the summer sweet,

Though to itself it only live and die,

But if that flower with base infection meet,

The basest weed outbraves his dignity:

For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;

Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.’

 

Sonnet XCIV

William Shakespeare


Flower of Evil2003-2007

Get the latest news and various benefits here. 

Subscribe
Subscribe