Memory Is What Makes Us Young Or

It Was One Of Those Somber Evenings When The Sighing Of The Wind Resembles The Moans Of A Dying Man; A Storm Was Brewing, And Between The Splashes Of Rain On The Windows There Was The Silence Of Death. All Nature Suffers In Such Moments; The Trees Writhe In Pain And Twist Their Heads; The Birds Of The Fields Cower Under The Bushes; The Streets Of Cities Are Deserted.

The Glass I Drink From Is Not Large, But At Least It Is My Own.

I Can't Help It, The Idea Of The Infinite Torments Me.

Partake Of Love As A Temperate Man Partakes Of Wine; Do Not Become Intoxicated.

You’re Like A Lighthouse Shining Beside The Sea Of Humanity, Motionless: All You Can See Is Your Own Reflection In The Water. You’re Alone, So You Think It’s A Vast, Magnificent Panorama. You Haven’t Sounded The Depths. You Simply Believe In The Beauty Of God’s Creation. But I Have Spent All This Time In The Water, Diving Deep Into The Howling Ocean Of Life, Deeper Than Anyone. While You Were Admiring The Surface, I Saw The Shipwrecks, The Drowned Bodies, The Monsters Of The Deep