Perversity Is The Human Thirst For Self-torture.

In Other Words, I Believed, And Still Do Believe, That Truth, Is Frequently Of Its Own Essence, Superficial, And That, In Many Cases, The Depth Lies More In The Abysses Where We Seek Her, Than In The Actual Situations Wherein She May Be Found.

And Much Of Madness, And More Of Sin, And Horror The Soul Of The Plot.

I Heed Not That My Earthly Lot Hath - Little Of Earth In It - That Years Of Love Have Been Forgot In The Hatred Of A Minute: - I Mourn Not That The Desolate Are Happier, Sweet, Than I, But That You Sorrow For My Fate Who Am A Passer By.

For The Moon Never Beams Without Bringing Me Dreams Of The Beautiful Annabel Lee

It Is The Nature Of Truth In General, As Of Some Ores In Particular, To Be Richest When Most Superficial.