The Smell Of Opium Is The Least

The Poet, By Composing Poems, Uses A Language That Is Neither Dead Nor Living, That Few People Speak, And Few People Understand We Are The Servants Of An Unknown Force That Lives Within Us, Manipulates Us, And Dictates This Language To Us.

The Artist Must Know How Far To Go Too Far.

Don't For A Moment Believe He Was Killing The Young; He Was Costuming Angels.

When A Work Appears To Be Ahead Of Its Time, It Is Only The Time That Is Behind The Work.

We Only Serve As A Model For The Portrait Of Our Fame.