For Each Letter Received From A Creditor,

There Is No Sweeter Pleasure Than To Surprise A Man By Giving Him More Than He Hopes For.

If A Given Combination Of Trees, Mountains, Water, And Houses, Say A Landscape, Is Beautiful, It Is Not So By Itself, But Because Of Me, Of My Favor, Of The Idea Or Feeling I Attach To It.

My Soul Travels On The Smell Of Perfume Like The Souls Of Other Men On Music.

...and The Lamp Having At Last Resigned Itself To Death. There Was Nothing Now But Firelight In The Room, And Every Time A Flame Uttered A Gasp For Breath It Flushed Her Amber Skin With The Blood Of Its Bloom.

Progress, This Great Heresy Of Decay.