I Will Draw You Back To Me.

Madness. I Did Not Get Myself Born To Die. I Have Better Things To Do.

The Soul Is A Magician. Only Living Flesh Hampers It.

Whatever The Hell I Am, I Am Me.

The Bitterness Of Joy Lies In The Knowledge That Is Cannot Last. Nor Should Joy Last Beyond A Certain Season, For, After That Season, Even Joy Would Become Merely Habit.

If They Had Said My Writing Wasn't Good Enough, Fair Enough, That's An Opinion. But To Say It's Too Complex Is To Insult The Intelligence Of The So-called Young.