Failure To Love Is Almost Like Murder.

Our Evenings Are Farewells. Our Parties Are Testaments. So That The Secret Stream Of Suffering. May Warm The Cold Of Life.

It Is Not The Object Described That Matters, But The Light That Falls On It.

All Mothers Are Mothers Of Great People, And It Is Not Their Fault That Life Later Disappoints Them.

Even So, One Step From My Grave, I Believe That Cruelty, Spite, The Powers Of Darkness Will In Time Be Crushed By The Spirit Of Light.

I Am Caught Like A Beast At Bay. Somewhere Are People, Freedom, Light, But All I Hear Is The Baying Of The Pack, There Is No Way Out For Me.