Existence Really Is An Imperfect Tense That

Of All That Is Written, I Love Only What A Person Hath Written With His Blood.

Body Am I Entirely, And Nothing Else; And Soul Is Only A Word For Something About The Body.

We Should Turn Our Death Into A Celebration, Even If Only Out Of A Malice Towards Life: Towards The Woman Who Wants To Leave--us!

It Is Regrettable That A Dostoyevsky Did Not Live Near This Most Interesting Of All Decadents (jesus Christ) - I Mean Someone Who Would Have Known How To Sense The Very Stirring Charm Of Such A Mixture Of The Sublime, The Sickly, And The Childlike.

Every Week We Ought To Have One Hour For Recieving Letters, Then Go Take A Bath.