There Is No Point In Asking Me

It’s True This World Our Breathing Laboured Inspires Nothing More Than Obvious Disgust A Desire To Flee Without Our Share And No Longer Read The Headlines We Long To Return To Our Ancestral Home Where Our Forebears Once Lived Under An Angel’s Wing We Long To Find That Strange Morality Which Sanctified Life To The End We Crave Something Like Loyalty Like The Embrace Of Mild Addictions Something That Transcends Yet Contains Life We Cannot Live Far From Eternity

Now Abideth Beauty, Truth, And Intensity; But The Greatest Of These Is Intensity.

Irony Won't Save You From Anything; Humour Doesn't Do Anything At All. You Can Look At Life Ironically For Years, Maybe Decades; There Are People Who Seem To Go Through Most Of Their Lives Seeing The Funny Side, But In The End, Life Always Breaks Your Heart. Doesn't Matter How Brave You Are, Or How Reserved, Or How Much You've Developed A Sense Of Humour, You Still End Up With Your Heart Broken. That's When You Stop Laughing.

I Don't Like This World. I Definitely Do Not Like It. The Society In Which I Live Disgusts Me; Advertising Sickens Me; Computers Make Me Puke.

As A Teenager, Michel Believed That Suffering Conferred Dignity On A Person. Now He Had To Admit That He Had Been Wrong. What Conferred Dignity On People Was Television.