Most Novelists Write About Twisted Lives.

When I Go To The Shore, I Take Along The Poems Of Pablo Neruda. I Suppose It's Because The Poems Are Simultaneously Lush And Ripe And Kind Of Lazy, Yet Throbbing With Life - Like Summer Itself.

We Are Seldom As Limited As We Think We Are.

All Dreams Continue In The Beyond.

He Who Jokes In The Executioners Face Can Be Destroyed, But Never Defeated.

This Is The Room Of The Wolfmother Wallpaper.