...beauty Is The Projection Of Ugliness And

A Great Wind Swept Over The Ghetto, Carrying Away Shame, Invisibility And Four Centuries Of Humiliation. But When The Wind Dropped People Saw It Had Been Only A Little Breeze, Friendly, Almost Gentle.

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

There Is A Close Relationship Between Flowers And Convicts. The Fragility And Delicacy Of The Former Are Of The Same Nature As The Brutal Insensitivity Of The Latter.

Repudiating The Virtues Of Your World, Criminals Hopelessly Agree To Organize A Forbidden Universe. They Agree To Live In It. The Air There Is Nauseating. They Can Breathe It.

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.