The More Rapidly The Water Moves, The

There's A Point At Which When I Start To Know A Man Well--this Isn't True Of Women--i Wonder Whether There's Something In Him That's Evil. Something That's Pure And Can't Be Touched. This Quality Of Evil May Be Related To The Quality Of Artistry, For An Artist Has The Same Characteristics.

Murder Is A Dream Because Lack Is The Center Of Both.

One Of The Most Destructive Forces In The World Is Love. For The Following Reason: The World Is A Conglomeration Of Objects, No, Of Events And The Approachings Of Events Towards Objects, Therefore Of Becoming Stases Static Stagnant, Of All That Is Unreal. You Get In The World, You Get Your Daily Life Your Routine Doesn’t Matter If You’re Rich Poor Legal Illegal, You Begin To Believe What Doesn’t Change Is Real, And Love Comes Along And Shows All These Unchangeable For Ever Fixtures To Be Flimsy Paper Bits. Love Can Tear Anything To Shreds.

Love Goes Away When Your Mind Goes Away And Then You're Someone Else.

Pain Is The World. I Don't Have Anywhere To Run.