At The Best Of Times,

It Is Far Easier For A Woman To Lead A Blameless Life Than It Is For A Man; All She Has To Do Is To Avoid Sexual Intercourse Like The Plague.

Midnight, And The Clock Strikes. It Is Christmas Day, The Werewolves Birthday, The Door Of The Solstice Still Wide Enough Open To Let Them All Slink Through.

With That, The Poignant Charm Vanished. Inside The Fifth Machine, All Was Rampant Malignity. Deformed Flowers Thrust Monstrous Horned Tusks And Trumpets Ending In Blaring Teeth Through The Crimson Walls, Rending Them; The Ravenous Garden Slavered Over Its Prey And Every Brick Was Shown In The Act Of Falling. Amid The Violence Of This Transformation, The Oblivion Of The Embrace Went On. The Awakened Girl, In All Her Youthful Loveliness, Still Clasped In The Arms Of A Lover From Whom All The Flesh Had Fallen. He Was A Grinning Skeleton.

Among The Monsters, I Am Well Hidden; Who Looks For A Leaf In A Forest?

The Child's Laughter Is Pure Until He First Laughs At A Clown.