Death Laid Its Eggs In The Wound

Adam & Eve. The Serpent Cracked The Mirror In A Thousand Pieces, & The Apple Was His Rock.

At First Glance, The Rhythm May Be Confused With Gaiety, But When You Look More Closely At The Mechanism Of Social Life And The Painful Slavery Of Both Men And Machines, You See That It Is Nothing But A Kind Of Typical, Empty Anguish That Makes Even Crime And Gangs Forgivable Means Of Escape.

The World Is A Shoulder Of Dark Meat (black Flesh Of An Old Mule). And The Light Is On The Other Side.

At The Heart Of All Great Art Is An Essential Melancholy.

Ever Since I Got Married I've Been Thinking Night And Day About Whose Fault It Was, And Every Time I Think About It, Out Comes A New Fault To Eat Up The Old One; But Always There's A Fault Left.