A Screaming Comes Across The Sky.

Let Me Be Unambiguous. I Prefer Not To Be Photographed.

There Is Nothing So Loathsome As A Sentimental Surrealist.

But With A Sigh He Had Released Her Hand, While She Was So Lost In The Fantasy That She Hadn't Felt It Go Away, As If He'd Known The Best Moment To Let Go.

Shall I Project A World?

He Decided That We Suffer From Great Temporal Homesickness For The Decade We Were Born In.