May Night Continue To Fall Upon The

Nothing That Surrounds Us Is Object, All Is Subject.

The Pure Playfulness Of Certain Wholly Whimsical Portions Of (charles) Cros’s Work Should Not Obscure The Fact That At The Center Of Some Of His Most Beautiful Poems A Revolver Is Leveled Straight At Us.

May Night Continue To Fall Upon The Orchestra

For Me, The Single Word "god" Suggests Everything That Is Slippery, Shady, Squalid, Foul, And Grotesque.

In The World We Live In Everything Militates In Favor Of Things That Have Not Yet Happened, Of Things That Will Never Happen Again.