It Is Bitter To Lose A Friend

Go With Your Fate, But Not Beyond. Beyond Leads To Dark Places.

One Might Have Supposed That The True Act Of Love Was To Lie Together And Talk.

In Hatred As In Love, We Grow Like The Thing We Brood Upon. What We Loathe, We Graft Into Our Very Soul.

Clouds Of Black Birds Rose Up Wailing And Screaming, Like The Thoughts Of My Heart.

Love Is A Boaster At Heart, Who Cannot Hide The Stolen Horse Without Giving A Glimpse Of The Bridle.