Intelligence Flourishes Only In The Ages When

There Is No Means Of Proving It Is Preferable To Be Than Not To Be.

We Have Lost, Being Born, As Much As We Shall Lose Dying: Everything!

Under Each Formula Lies A Corpse.

Woes And Wonders Of Power, That Tonic Hell, Synthesis Of Poison And Panacea.

Music Is The Refuge Of Souls Ulcerated By Happiness.