The Subtlest Beauties In Our

Trickery Succeeds Sometimes, But It Always Commits Suicide.

Verily The Lust For Comfort Murders The Passion Of The Soul, And Then Walks Grinning In The Funeral.

Strange, The Desire For Certain Pleasures Is A Part Of My Pain.

Even While The Earth Sleeps We Travel.

To Love Life Through Our Labor Is To Be Intimate With Life's Inmost Secrets.