He Who Holds Me By A Thread

I Would Go To Heaven, But I Would Take My Hell; I Would Not Go Alone.

He Who Does Not Fill His World With Phantoms Remains Alone.

Without This Ridiculous Vanity That Takes The Form Of Self-display, And Is Part Of Everything And Everyone, We Would See Nothing, And Nothing Would Exist.

Nothing Is Not Only Nothing. It Is Also Our Prison.

The Real "it Is Well" Is Something I Say From The Ground, Having Fallen.