Under Each Formula Lies A Corpse.

All The Concessions We Make To Eros Are Holes In Our Desire For The Absolute.

As The Years Pass, The Number Of Those We Can Communicate With Diminishes. When There Is No Longer Anyone To Talk To, At Last We Will Be As We Were Before Stooping To A Name.

In Every Man Sleeps A Prophet, And When He Wakes There Is A Little More Evil In The World.

If You're Unlucky Enough Not To Have Alcoholic Parents, It Takes You A Whole Lifetime Of Intoxication To Overcome The Dead Weight Of Their Virtues.

We Derive Our Vitality From Our Store Of Madness.