Details Are The Life Of Prose.

Are We Fallen Angels Who Didn't Want To Believe That Nothing Is Nothing And So Were Born To Lose Our Loved Ones And Dear Friends One By One And Finally Our Own Life, To See It Proved?

You Can't Fight City Hall. It Keeps Changing Its Name.

To Think That So Much Comes To So Little, To Think That Life Is Really Short.

The Only People For Me Are The Mad Ones, The Ones Who Are Mad To Live, Mad To Talk, Mad To Be Saved, Desirous Of Everything At The Same Time, The Ones Who Never Yawn Or Say A Commonplace Thing, But Burn, Burn, Burn Like Fabulous Yellow Roman Candles Exploding Like Spiders Across The Stars.

Avoid The World, It's Just A Lot Of Dust And Drag And Means Nothing In The End.