Life, Friends, Is Boring. We Must Not

I Cry. Evil Dissolves, & Love, Like Foam; That Love. Prattle Of Children Powers Me Home, My Heart Claps Like The Swan's Under A Frenzy Of Who Love Me & Who Shine.

We Are Using Our Own Skins For Wallpaper And We Cannot Win.

We Have Reason To Be Afraid. This Is A Terrible Place.

Bats Have No Bankers And They Do Not Drink And Cannot Be Arrested And Pay No Tax And, In General, Bats Have It Made.

Ever To Confess You're Bored Means You Have No Inner Resources.