Great Art Is Horseshit, Buy Tacos.

If Something Burns Your Soul With Purpose And Desire, It’s Your Duty To Be Reduced To Ashes By It. Any Other Form Of Existence Will Be Yet Another Dull Book In The Library Of Life.

Those Who Escape Hell However Never Talk About It And Nothing Much Bothers Them After That

The Poet, As A Rule, Is A Half-man - A Sissy, Not A Real Person, And He Is In No Shape To Lead Real Men In Matters Of Blood, Or Courage.

There Is A Loneliness In This World So Great That You Can See It In The Slow Movement Of The Hands Of A Clock

The Tired Sunsets And The Tired People - It Takes A Lifetime To Die And No Time At All.