We All Love Conflagrations. When The Sky

I Myself Shall Continue Living In My Glass House Where You Can Always See Who Comes To Call, Where Everything Hanging From The The Ceiling And On The Walls Stays Where It Is As If By Magic, Where I Sleep Nights In A Glass Bed, Under Glass Sheets, Where Who I Am Will Sooner Or Later Appear Etched By A Diamond.

All My Life, My Heart Has Yearned For A Thing I Cannot Name.

Trust In The Inexhaustible Character Of The Murmur.

The Simplest Surrealist Act Consists Of Dashing Down The Street, Pistol In Hand, And Firing Blindly, As Fast As You Can Pull The Trigger, Into The Crowd. Anyone Who, At Least Once In His Life, Has Not Dreamed Of Thus Putting An End To The Petty System Of Debasement And Cretinization In Effect Has A Well-defined Place In That Crowd With His Belly At Barrel-level.

There Are Fairy Stories To Be Written For Adults. Stories That Are Still In A Green State.