Life's Been Nothing But Paperwork.

All That Is Not Perfect Down To The Smallest Detail Is Doomed To Perish.

The Call Of Love Sounds Very Hollow Among These Immobile Rocks.

Behind Me The Branches Of A Wasted And Sterile Existence Are Cracking.

To Judge A Composer's Work, One Must Consider It As A Whole.

You Must Renounce All Superficiality, All Convention, All Vanity And Delusion.