It Is Only Through Mystery And Madness

This Wretched Brain Gave Way, And I Became A Wreck At Random Driven, Without One Glimpse Of Reason Or Heaven.

Though An Angel Should Write, Still 'tis Devils Must Print.

Finding The Right Work Is Like Discovering Your Own Soul In The World.

Though The Last Glimpse Of Erin With Sorrow I See, Yet Wherever Thou Art Shall Seem Erin To Me; In Exile Thy Bosom Shall Still Be My Home, And Thine Eyes Make My Climate Wherever We Roam.

The Devil...the Prowde Spirite...cannot Endure To Be Mocked.