we have forgotten what night tastes like, salted by full moon silver rupturingthe dark. we have forgotten how the skin sings when the lunar fervor unfurls across its follicles.

you saywe were nevermeant for this vowed life, golden bands of only us, and deathdo us part. you say love like it's held in quotation marks, that this union soured before it started.

the mind is a treasuretrove, an almanac, a tomb.

I wonder what freezesthe flurry of hurt on her cold-flushed cheeks, if his touch isa salve or the shattering.

absencelooks like a lake bed flooded with skysounds like cotton howlingtastes like tear-stained pillowssmells like churning bile and burnt hairfeels like screaming agony, my heart dying and dying

God, is there no faith left?He has not told. I would not know Him if I saw Him.

I am at the gates of my own destruction.(Or so I'm told.)

Pain fuels artistry and creativity. Harness your suffering and become a master of your art.

Above all, man must learn once again what he is and why he was created.

I watched as she, with a half-life-worth of anger and resolve, flickered into this dark night and tried with all her might to get back what was taken from her.

It is absurd to think that the general public can ever make money out of market forecasts.

Encouraged, we recognise the importance of living artistically, aesthetically and creatively as creative creatures of the creator.

Maybe I will hire someone to make some belts for me. It's easier than fighting for them you know.

The Music is the only corporeal introduction to the superior world of Knowledge.

I'm Catholic, he's Jewish, and it was just easier to elope.

Theorizing is of course essential to make progress in understanding, but theorizing in the absence of knowing available relevant facts is not very productive.

The good parts are the people who don't make do. They're the interesting people. Lear doesn't make do.