Seagulls . . . Slim

As For Me, I Would Rather Be A Worm In A Wild Apple Than A Son Of Man. But We Are What We Are, And We Might Remember Not To Hate Any Person, For All Are Vicious; And Not To Be Astonished At Any Evil, All Are Deserved; And Not To Fear Death; It Is The Only Way To Be Cleansed.

It Is Only A Little Planet, But How Beautiful It Is.

You Making Haste On Decay: Not Blameworthy; Life Is Good, Be It Stubbornly Long Or Suddenly A Mortal Splendor: Meteors Are Not Needed Less Than Mountains: Shine, Perishing Republic.

Corruption Never Has Been Compulsory; When The Cities Lie At The Monster's Feet There Are Left The Mountains.

Does It Matter Whether You Hate Yourself? At Least Love Your Eyes That Can See, Your Mind That Can Hear The Music, The Thunder Of The Wings.