Anyone Who Hasn't Experienced The Ecstasy Of

Slowly But Surly I Want To Strip Her Of Every Kind Of Happiness As To Make A Saint Of Her.

...beauty Is The Projection Of Ugliness And By Developing Certain Monstrosities We Obtain The Purest Ornaments.

The Time For Reasoning Is Past; Now's The Time To Get Steamed Up And Fight Like Mad.

Worse Than Not Realizing The Dreams Of Your Youth, Would Be To Have Been Young And Never Dreamed At All.

They Remain Dead, The People I Try To Resuscitate By Straining To Hear What They Say. But The Illusion Is Not Pointless, Or Not Quite, Even If The Reader Knows All This Better Than I Do. One Thing A Book Tries To Do, Beneath The Disguise Of Words And Causes And Clothes And Grief, Is Show The Skeleton And The Skeleton Dust To Come. The Author Too, Like Those Of Whom He Speaks, Is Dead.