Nature Is A Burning And Frigid, Transparent

We Turn Toward God Only To Obtain The Impossible.

Independence Is Earned By A Few Words Of Cheap Confidence

One Grows Out Of Pity When It's Useless.

There Are Causes Worth Dying For, But None Worth Killing For.

The Poor Man Whom Everyone Speaks Of, The Poor Man Whom Everyone Pities, One Of The Repulsive Poor From Whom Charitable Souls Keep Their Distance, He Has Still Said Nothing. Or, Rather, He Has Spoken Through The Voice Of Victor Hugo, Zola, Richepin. At Least, They Said So. And These Shameful Impostures Fed Their Authors. Cruel Irony, The Poor Man Tormented With Hunger Feeds Those Who Plead His Case.