All Our Songs Are About Love, Travel

I Pressed Her Thigh And Death Smiled

We Fear Violence Less Than Our Own Feelings. Personal, Private, Solitary Pain Is More Terrifying Than What Anyone Else Can Inflict.

The World Becomes An Apparently Infinite, Yet Possibly Finite, Card Game. Image Combinations, Permutations, Comprise The World Game.

Music Inflames Temperament.

Cinema, Heir Of Alchemy, Last Of An Erotic Science.