Perversity Is The Human Thirst For Self-torture.

And All I Loved, I Loved Alone.

If We Cannot Comprehend God In His Visible Works, How Then In His Inconceivable Thoughts, That Call The Works Into Being?

...the Agony Of My Soul Found Vent In One Loud, Long And Final Scream Of Despair.

Even With The Utterly Lost, To Whom Life And Death Are Equally Jests, There Are Matters Of Which No Jest Can Be Made.

And The Raven, Never Flitting, Still Is Sitting, Still Is Sitting...