We Live By Action—by Acting On Desire.

And Let Our Despite Go To Those Who Work And Fight And Our Hate To Those Who Hope And Trust.

Without Madness What Is Man But A Wholesome Beast, Postponed Corpse That Begets?

We Never Love Anyone. What We Love Is The Idea We Have Of Someone. It's Our Own Concept—our Own Selves—that We Love.

I Never Had Anyone I Could Call “master”. No Christ Died For Me. No Buddha Showed Me The Right Path. In The Depths Of My Dreams No Apollo Or Athena Appeared To Me To Enlighten My Soul

Life Is A Thread That Someone Entangled.