Grace Only Exists To Be Fallen From.

I Suppose The Word "unbearable" Is A Lie By Definition. Unless You Kill Yourself Immediately After Using It.

When I See Gurgling Retarded Children (that's God's Doing, By The Way, Not Mine) Happily Styling Their Hair With Their Own Stinking Mards, I Think Of Adam In Those Pre-marital Days. I Know He's Your Great-to-the-nth-degree-granddad And All - But I'm Afraid He Was Rather An Imbecile.

I Don’t Know Where The Universe Came From Or What Happens To Creatures When They Die. I Don’t Know If The Whole Thing’s An Unravelling Accident Or An Inscrutable Design. I Don’t Know How One Should Live—but I Know That One Should Live, If One Can Possibly Bear It.

Pain Is Beyond Reason, An Obliterating Giant Stupidity To Which All Your History Of Jokes And Nuance And Ideas And Caresses Is Nothing, Simply Nothing.

The Rain's Been Racing Earthwards As If With Some Religious Or Political Fanaticism. The Clouds Have The Look Of Dark Internal Bleeding. Surely You Lot Look Up From Cosmo While This Sort Of Thing's Going On? Surely You Take A Playstation Break?