There Is Moss On The Walls And

It Was Only The Matter Of A New Voice. Nobody Listened To An Old Voice Anymore. Old Voices Became A Part Of One's Self, Like A Fingernail.

Beware Of Those Who Seek Constant Crowds; They Are Nothing Alone.

Her Eyes Always Had A Frantic, Lost Look. He Could Never Cure Her Eyes Of That.

I'm Going, She Said. I Love You But You're Crazy, You're Doomed.

Censorship Is The Tool Of Those Who Have The Need To Hide Actualities From Themselves And From Others. Their Fear Is Only Their Inability To Face What Is Real, And I Can't Vent Any Anger Against Them. I Only Feel This Appalling Sadness. Somewhere, In Their Upbringing, They Were Shielded Against The Total Facts Of Our Existence. They Were Only Taught To Look One Way When Many Ways Exist.