Ah Those Knock-out Body Fluids: Blood, Sperm,

When I Beheld You, Suddenly - For Perhaps A Second - I Had The Strength To Reject Everything That Wasn't You And To Laugh At The Illusion. But My Shoulders Are Very Frail. I Was Unable To Bear The Weight Of The World's Condemnation. And I Began To Hate You When Everything About You Would Have Kindled My Love And When Love Would Have Made Men's Contempt Unbearable, And Their Contempt Would Have Made My Love Unbearable. The Fact Is, I Hate You.

I Could Not Take Lightly The Idea That People Made Love Without Me.

Anyone Who's Never Experienced The Pleasure Of Betrayal Doesn't Know What Pleasure Is.

Would Hamlet Have Felt The Delicious Fascination Of Suicide If He Hadn't Had An Audience, And Lines To Speak?

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