Old Women Can See Through Walls.

There Is Nothing More Poetic And Terrible Than The Skyscrapers' Battle With The Heavens That Cover Them. Snow, Rain, And Mist Highlight, Drench, Or Conceal The Vast Towers, But Those Towers, Hostile To Mystery And Blind To Any Sort Of Play, Shear Off The Rain's Tresses And Shine Their Three Thousand Swords Through The Soft Swan Of The Fog.

I Put My Head Out Of My Window And See How Much The Wind’s Knife Wants To Slice It Off. On This Unseen Guillotine, I’ve Placed The Eyeless Head Of All My Desires.

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

Men Like To Pleasure Us, Girl. They Like To Undo Our Plaits And Give Us Water To Drink From Their Own Mouths. That's What Makes The World Go Round.

At The Heart Of All Great Art Is An Essential Melancholy.