I Like Mainly To Be Invisible, To

Curses Of Vanished Elders Echoed Down On Me; Too Pretty, Too Soft, Too Pale, Eyes Far Too Full Of The Devil, Ah, That Devilish Smile

Would That Death Were Like This. Would That One Would Sleep And Sleep And Sleep Forever.

We Need To Stop Fighting Christian Against Christian. I Have No Time For Anything But Trying To Love Other People. That Is A Full-time Job.

The Young Know How Truly Difficult And Dreadful Youth Can Be. Their Youth Is Wasted On Everyone Else, That's The Horror. The Young Have No Authority, No Respect.

It's An Awful Truth That Suffering Can Deepen Us, Give A Greater Lustre To Our Colours, A Richer Resonance To Our Words. That Is, If It Doesn't Destroy Us, If It Doesn't Burn Away The Optimism And The Spirit, The Capacity For Visions, And The Respect For Simple Yet Indispensable Things.