I Write And That Way Rid Myself

Do Not Mourn The Dead. They Know What They Are Doing.

To Think Is An Act. To Feel Is A Fact.

How Was She To Tie Herself To A Man Without Permitting Him To Imprison Her? And Was There Some Means Of Acquiring Things Without Those Things Possessing Her?

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

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