Artists No Longer Starve In Garrets. Some

The Devil Is Everywhere Under The Skin Of Things, Searching For A Way Into The Light.

As You See, I Do Not Treat The Creation Of Fiction, That To Say The Invention And Development Of Fantasies,as A Form Of Abstract Thought. I Dont Wish To Deny The Uses Of The Intellect,but Sometimes One Has The Intuition That The Intellect By Itself Will Lead One Nowhere.

Despair ... Is Like A Gas, Odourless, Tasteless, Without Nourishment. You Breathe It In, Your Limbs Relax, You Cease To Care, Even At The Moment When The Steel Touches Your Throat.

To The Last We Have Learned Nothing. In All Of Us, Deep Down, There Seems To Be Something Granite And Unteachable. No One Truly Believes, Despite The Hysteria In The Streets That The World Of Tranquil Certainties We Were Born Into Is About To Be Extinguished.

I Am Not The We Of Anyone