You Walk On Corpses, Beauty, Undismayed.

Even If It Were Proven That God Didn't Exist, Religion Would Still Be Saintly And Divine.

Do You Remember The Sight We Saw, My Soul, That Soft Summer Morning Round A Turning In The Path, The Disgusting Carcass On A Bed Scattered With Stones, Its Legs In The Air Like A Woman In Need Burning Its Wedding Poisons Like A Fountain With Its Rhythmic Sobs, I Could Hear It Clearly Flowing With A Long Murmuring Sound, But I Touch My Body In Vain To Find The Wound. I Am The Vampire Of My Own Heart, One Of The Great Outcasts Condemned To Eternal Laughter Who Can No Longer Smile. Am I Dead? I Must Be Dead.

We All Have The Republican Spirit In Our Veins, Like Syphilis In Our Bones. We Are Democratized And Venerealized.

It Would Perhaps Be Nice To Be Alternately The Victim And The Executioner.

Evil Is Done Without Effort, Naturally, It's Destiny; Good Is Always The Product Of Skill.