What Do We Do Now, Now That

Adulterers, Take Warning, Never Admit.

We Always Find Something, Eh Didi, To Let Us Think We Exist?

I Love Order. It's My Dream. A World Where All Would Be Silent And Still, And Each Thing In Its Last Place, Under The Last Dust.

It Is Right That He Too Should Have His Little Chronicle, His Memories, His Reason, And Be Able To Recognize The Good In The Bad, The Bad In The Worst, And So Grow Gently Old Down All The Unchanging Days, And Die One Day Like Any Other Day, Only Shorter.

Clear To Me At Last That The Dark I Have Always Struggled To Keep Under Is In Reality My Most