Everything Is A Little Bit Of Darkness,

My Poverty Is Not Complete: It Lacks Me.

Everything Had Been Stripped Of Deceptions, That Time. And That Time I Was Afraid Of Everything.

When The Superficial Wearies Me, It Wearies Me So Much That I Need An Abyss In Order To Rest.

He Who Makes A Paradise Of His Bread Makes A Hell Of His Hunger.

He Who Goes Step By Step Always Finds Himself Level With A Step.