In Violence, We Forget Who We Are

This Is The Spirit Of The Enchantment Under Which Venice Lies, Pearly And Roseate, Like The Sleeping Beauty, Changeless Throughout The Centuries, Arrested, While The Concrete Forest Of The Modern World Grows Up Around Her.

All Dramatic Realism Is Somewhat Sadistic; An Audience Is Persuaded To Watch Something That Makes It Uncomfortable And From Which No Relief Is Offered - No Laughter, No Tears, No Purgation.

For Self-realization, A Rebel Demands A Strong Authority, A Worthy Opponent, God To His Lucifer.

In Violence, We Forget Who We Are

In Morals As In Politics Anarchy Is Not For The Weak.