I Play The Piano Passionately And Inaccurately.

Kill The Pig! Cut His Throat! Kill The Pig! Bash Him In!

It May Be -- I Hope It Is -- Redemption To Guess And Perhaps Perceive That The Universe, The Hell Which We See For All Its Beauty, Vastness, Majesty, Is Only Part Of A Whole Which Is Quite Unimaginable.

However You Disguise Novels, They Are Always Biographies.

What Are We? Humans? Or Animals? Or Savages?

I Began To See What People Were Capable Of Doing. Anyone Who Moved Through Those Years Without Understanding That Man Produces Evil As A Bee Produces Honey, Must Have Been Blind Or Wrong In The Head.