I Wandered Through The Streets Thinking Of

Through The Years Our Business Has Been Killing;-it Was Our First Calling In Life. Our Knowledge Of Lif Eis Limited To Death.

-why Does A Man Live? -in Order To Think About It.

Sometimes I Used To Think That One Day I Should Wake Up, And All That Had Been Would Be Over. Forgotten, Sunk, Drowned. Nothing Was Sure - Not Even Memory.

I Did Not Want To Think So Much About Her. I Wanted To Take Her As An Unexpected, Delightful Gift, That Had Come And Would Go Again — Nothing More. I Meant Not To Give Room To The Thought That It Could Ever Be More. I Knew Too Well That All Love Has The Desire For Eternity And That Therein Lies Its Eternal Torment. Nothing Lasts. Nothing.

Life Is A Disease, Brother, And Death Begins Already At Birth. Every Breath, Every Heartbeat, Is A Moment Of Dying - A Little Shove Toward The End.