Compared With Me, A Tree Is Immortal.

And What Is Happy? It Is A Going Always On. There Is Something Better To Be Done Than I Have Done, And Spurred By The Fair Delusion Of Progress, I Will Seek To Progress, To Whip Myself On, To More And More- To Learning. Always.

When I Fell Out Of The Light, I Entered The Stomach Of Indifference, The Wordless Cupboard.

I May Never Be Happy, But Tonight I Am Content. At Times Like This I'd Call Myself A Fool To Ask For More.

There Is More Than One Good Way To Drown.

The Blood Jet Is Poetry And There Is No Stopping It.