When I Curse Fate, It's Not Me,

Irony Is The Glory Of Slaves.

Two Attributes Of A Poet, Avidity Of The Eye And The Desire To Describe That Which He Sees.

Grow Your Tree Of Falsehood From A Small Grain Of Truth. Do Not Follow Those Who Lie In Contempt Of Reality. Let Your Lie Be Even More Logical Than The Truth Itself, So The Weary Travelers May Find Repose.

You See How I Try To Reach With Words What Matters Most And How I Fail.

Our Memory Is Childish And It Saves Only What We Need.