I, Who Called Love My Hope For

I Write And That Way Rid Myself Of Me And Then At Last I Can Rest.

The World's Continual Breathing Is What We Hear And Call Silence.

Even Great Men Are Only Truly Recognized And Honored Once They Are Dead. Why? Because Those Who Praise Them Need To Feel Themselves Somehow Superior To The Person Praised, They Need To Feel They Are Making Some Concession.

So Long As I Have Questions To Which There Are No Answers, I Shall Go On Writing.

It Is Because I Dove Into The Abyss That I Am Beginning To Love The Abyss I Am Made Of.