Horror Causes Men To Clench Their Fists,

Defeat Is A Thing Of Weariness, Of Incoherence, Of Boredom, And Above All Futility.

Of Course I’ll Hurt You. Of Course You’ll Hurt Me. Of Course We Will Hurt Each Other. But This Is The Very Condition Of Existence. To Become Spring, Means Accepting The Risk Of Winter. To Become Presence, Means Accepting The Risk Of Absence.

What Torments Me Is Not The Humps Nor Hollows Nor The Ugliness. It Is The Sight, A Little Bit In All These Men, Of Mozart Murdered.

You Risk Tears If You Let Yourself Be Tamed.

Once You Are My Friend, I Am Responsible For You.