Artistic License Sneered Through The Thin Fabric.

When You Die, You Are Extinguished. From Being You Will Be Transformed To Non-being. A God Does Not Necessarily Dwell Among Our Capricious Atoms.

Occasionally I Sense An Insane Wail Deep Down In The Pit, The Echo Alone Reaching Me, Striking Without Warning, A Child Weeping Uninhibitedly, Imprisoned Forever.

One Of Ennui's Most Terribel Components Is The Overwhelming Feeling Of Ennui That Comes Over You Whenever You Try To Explain It.

I'd Prostitute My Talents If It Would Further My Cause, Steal If There Was No Way Out, Killing My Friends Or Anyone Else If It Would Help My Art.

First, I Write Down All I Know About The Story, At Length And In Detail. Then I Sink The Iceberg And Let Some Of It Float Up Just A Little.