I Recognize In Thieves, Traitors And Murderers,

By Stretching Language We'll Distort It Sufficiently To Wrap Ourselves In It And Hide.

Repudiating The Virtues Of Your World, Criminals Hopelessly Agree To Organize A Forbidden Universe. They Agree To Live In It. The Air There Is Nauseating. They Can Breathe It.

Men Endowed With A Wild Imagination Should Have, In Addition, The Great Poetic Faculty Of Denying Our Universe And Its Values So That They May Act Upon It With Sovereign Ease.

Violence Is A Calm That Disturbs You.

What We Need Is Hatred. From It Our Ideas Are Born.