Quite Possibly, What I Call Happiness May

Yet How Strange A Thing Is The Beauty Of Music! The Brief Beauty That The Player Brings Into Being Transforms A Given Period Of Time Into Pure Continuance; It Is Certain Never To Be Repeated; Like The Existence Of Dayflies And Other Such Short-lived Creatures, Beauty Is A Perfect Abstraction And Creation Of Life Itself. Nothing Is So Similar To Life As Music.

His Emotion Evident In The Glitter Of His Eyes.

Men Had Been Living A Proud Life, Having Felt No Need For The Spirit-until Christianity Invented It.

The Instant That The Blade Tore Open His Flesh, The Bright Disk Of The Sun Soared Up And Exploded Behind His Eyelids.

Other People Must Be Destroyed. In Order That I Might Truly Face The Sun, The World Itself Must Be Destroyed.