One Day, Perhaps, You Will

All Art Is An Intensely Vulnerable Gesture, And It Is Made With No Small Amounts Of Risk, And Fear. So, I Have Plenty Of Sympathy For Self-defense Mechanisms, Especially Among Artists.

A Celebration Of Insignificance, Is That All We Are In The End? And One Day I’ll Just Be One More Of Those Faces, Frozen In Death And Wonder

The Only Consistent Narrative We Possess Is One That We Share With Every Other Life-form: We Are Born, We Live, And Then We Die.

Betrayal Was The Greatest Of All Crimes, For It Took All That Was Human Within A Person And Made It A Thing Of Pain. In The Face Of That, Murder Itself Was Surcease: It Was Quick, And It Ended The Anguish And Despair Of A Life Without Hope.

The Notion Of Evil For Its Own Sake Strikes Me As Boring -- All These Dark Lords Intent On Creating Wastelands Packed With Enslaved Victims... For What?