Babes, I Am So Bored Here That

But I Realized Something. About Art. And Psychiatry. They're Both Self-perpetuating Systems. Like Religion. All Three Of Them Promise You A Sense Of Inner Worth And Meaning, And Spend A Lot Of Time Telling You About The Suffering You Have To Go Through To Achieve It.

Ah, Well, During The Middle Ages, Religion Was Often Able To Redeem Art. Today, However, Art Is About The Only Thing That Can Redeem Religion, And The Clerics Will Never Forgive Us For That.

Power Is All. Another Falsification; I Do Not Tell How I Gain Or Maintain It. I Only Record The Ginger Stroll Through The Vaguely Fetid Garden Of Its Rewards.

The Emblem Of A Philosophy Is Not That It Contains A Set Of Specific Thoughts , But That It Generates A Way Of Thinking.

The Night ... It Is Filled With Bestial Watchmen, Trammeling The Extremities And The Interstices Of The Timeless City, Portents Fallen, Constellated Deities Plummeting In Ash And Smoke, Roaming The Apocryphal Cities, The Cities Of Speculation And Reconstituted Disorder, Of Insemination And Incipience, Swept Round With The Dark.