My Tongue Is Pierced With Glass.

I've Often Lost Myself, In Order To Find The Burn That Keeps Everything Awake

Death, Lonely Death, Beneath The Withered Leaves.

Every Step We Take On Earth Brings Us To A New World.

Fire Is Fed By Fire. The Same Small Flame Destroys Two Stalks Of Wheat At Once.

At First Glance, The Rhythm May Be Confused With Gaiety, But When You Look More Closely At The Mechanism Of Social Life And The Painful Slavery Of Both Men And Machines, You See That It Is Nothing But A Kind Of Typical, Empty Anguish That Makes Even Crime And Gangs Forgivable Means Of Escape.