The First Horror Is There's Horror. The

For You, My Darlings, Freedom To Do What You Like Is The Discovery Of How Unlikable What You Like To Do Makes You. Not That That Stops You Doing What You Like, Since You Like Doing What You Like More Than You Like Liking What You Do... [lucifer]

Poets Suffer Occasional Delusions Of Angelhood And Find Themselves Condemned To Express It In The Bric-a-brac Tongues Of The Human World. Lots Of Them Go Mad.

We Go To The Past To Lay The Blame - Since The Past Can't Argue. We Go To Our Past Selves To Account For Our Present Miseries.

I'm An American. We're A People Diseased With Progress.

Life, Like The Boring Drunk At The Office Party, Keeps Seeking You Out, Leaning On You, Killing You With Pointless Yarns And Laughing Bad-breathed In Your Face At Its Own Unfunny Jokes.