Many People Have Delusions Of Grandeur But

I Have No Other Pictures Of The World Apart From Those Which Express Evanescence, And Callousness, Vanity And Anger, Emptiness, Orhideous Useless Hate. Everything Has Merely Confirmed What I Had Seen And Understood In My Childhood: Futile And Sordid Fits Of Rage, Cries Suddenly Blanketed By The Silence, Shadows Swallowed Up For Ever By The Night.

Banality Is A Symptom Of Non-communication. Men Hide Behind Their Cliches.

That's How We Stay Young These Days: Murder And Suicide.

We Haven't The Time To Take Out Time.

The Human Comedy Does Not Attract Me Enough. I Am Not Entirely Of This World. I Am From Elsewhere, And It Is Worth Finding This Elsewhere Beyond The Walls...but Where Is It?