One Can Hear All That's Going On

I Wanted To Swallow Myself By Opening My Mouth Very Wide And Turning It Over My Head So That It Would Take In My Whole Body, And Then The Universe, Until All That Would Remain Of Me Would Be A Ball Of Eaten Thing Which Little By Little Would Be Annihilated: That Is How I See The End Of The World.

To Achieve Harmony In Bad Taste Is The Height Of Elegance.

The Despondency That Follows Makes Me Feel Somewhat Like A Shipwrecked Man Who Spies A Sail, Sees Himself Saved, And Suddenly Remembers That The Lens Of His Spyglass Has A Flaw, A Blurred Spot -- The Sail He Has Seen.

Ah Those Knock-out Body Fluids: Blood, Sperm, Tears!

Power May Be At The End Of A Gun, But Sometimes It's Also At The End Of The Shadow Or The Image Of A Gun.