Even Paranoids Have Real Enemies.

O Your Life, Your Lonely Lifewhat Have You Ever Done With It,and Done With The Great Gift Of Consciousness?what Will You Ever Do Before Death's Knifeprovides The Answer Ultimate And Appropriate?as I For My Part Felt In My Heart As One Who Falls,falls In A Parachute, Falls Endlessly, And Feels The Vastdraft Of The Abyss Sucking Him Down And Down,an Endlessly Helplessly Falling And Appalled Clown:this Is The Way The Night Passes By, Thisis The Overnight Endless Trip To The Famous Unfathomable Abyss.

Literary Party: A Traffic Jam Of The Lost Waiting For The Ferry Across The Styx.

Love Is The Tact Of Every Good, The Only Warmth, The Only Peace.

How Could I Think The Brief Years Were Enough To Prove The Reality Of Endless Love?

All Literature Is An Effort At The Formal Character Of The Epigram.