Morality Is The Weakness Of The Mind.

But, Truly, I Have Wept Too Much! The Dawns Are Heartbreaking. Every Moon Is Atrocious And Every Sun Bitter.

...i Is Another. If The Brass Wakes The Trumpet, It’s Not Its Fault. That’s Obvious To Me: I Witness The Unfolding Of My Own Thought: I Watch It, I Hear It: I Make A Stroke With The Bow: The Symphony Begins In The Depths, Or Springs With A Bound Onto The Stage. If The Old Imbeciles Hadn’t Discovered Only The False Significance Of Self, We Wouldn’t Have To Now Sweep Away Those Millions Of Skeletons Which Have Been Piling Up The Products Of Their One-eyed Intellect Since Time Immemorial, And Claiming Themselves To Be Their Authors!

You Will Always Be A Hyena.

Is It In These Bottomless Nights That You Sleep In Exile?

Stronger Than Alcohol, Vaster Than Poetry, Ferment The Freckled Red Bitterness Of Love!