Genius Is Finding The Invisible Link Between

I Have No Desires, Save The Desire To Express Myself In Defiance Of All The World’s Muteness.

I Am Surrounded By Some Sort Of Wretched Specters, Not By People. They Torment Me As Can Torment Only Senseless Visions, Bad Dreams, Dregs Of Delirium, The Drivel Of Nightmares And Everything That Passes Down Here For Real Life.

The Writer's Job Is To Get The Main Character Up A Tree, And Then Once They Are Up There, Throw Rocks At Them.

All Colors Made Me Happy: Even Gray. My Eyes Were Such That Literally They Took Photographs.

And Presently I Was Driving Through The Drizzle Of The Dying Day, With The Windshield Wipers In Full Action But Unable To Cope With My Tears.