I Decided To Be What

I Don't Want To Disappear.

It's The Hour When Night Breaks Away From The Day, My Dove, Let Me Go.

Added To The Moral Solitude Of The Murderer Comes The Solitude Of The Artist, Which Can Acknowledge No Authority, Save That Of Another Artist.

There Are Mornings When All Men Experience With Fatigue A Flush Of Tenderness That Makes Them Horny.

Anyone Who Hasn't Experienced The Ecstasy Of Betrayal Knows Nothing About Ecstasy At All.