They Spent Their Time Doing Nothing... They

What We Need Is Hatred. From It Our Ideas Are Born.

Prisons! Prisons! Prisons, Dungeons, Blessed Places Where Evil Is Impossible Since They Are The Crossroads Of All The Malediction In The World. One Cannot Commit Evil In Evil.

Erotic Play Discloses A Nameless World Which Is Revealed By The Nocturnal Language Of Lovers. Such Language Is Not Written Down. It Is Whispered Into The Ear At Night In A Hoarse Voice. At Dawn It Is Forgotten.

In Reviewing My Life, In Tracing Its Course, I Fill My Cell With The Pleasure Of Being What For Want Of A Trifle I Failed To Be, Recapturing, So That I May Hurl Myself Into Them As Into Dark Pits, Those Moments When I Strayed Through The Trap-ridden Compartments Of A Subterranean Sky

Men Endowed With A Wild Imagination Should Have, In Addition, The Great Poetic Faculty Of Denying Our Universe And Its Values So That They May Act Upon It With Sovereign Ease.