The Only Way Of Enduring One Disaster

We Dread The Future Only When We Are Not Sure We Can Kill Ourselves When We Want To.

The Fanatic Is Incorruptible: If He Kills For An Idea, He Can Just As Well Get Himself Killed For One; In Either Case, Tyrant Or Martyr, He Is A Monster.

God: A Disease We Imagine We Are Cured Of Because No One Dies Of It Nowadays.

What Strangely Enchanted Tunes Gush Forth During Those Sleepless Nights!

I Am The Beast With A Contorted Grin, Contracting Down To Illusion And Dilating Toward Infinity, Both Growing And Dying, Delightfully Suspended Between Hope For Nothing And Despair Of Everything, Brought Up Among Perfumes And Poisons, Consumed With Love And Hatred, Killed By Lights And Shadows. My Symbol Is Death Of Light And The Flame Of Death. Sparks Die In Me Only To Be Reborn As Thunder And Lightning. Darkness Itself Glows In Me.