When I Start Writing, My Unconscious, My

If I Get Ideas Independently Of The Act Of Writing, They Never Really Fit. So For Me, There's No Hanging Out, Waiting For Inspiration.

At Least If You Were Ignorant You Could Do Wat You Wanted. You Had No Idea Wat Had Been Acheived In The Past. You Were Free Instead Of Chewed At By Bleeding Impotence, Dissolved Away Like A Pearl In Acid

We Recived Our Colouring From The Norsemen,hairy Savages Who Hacked Their Gods To Pieces And Hung The Flesh From Trees.we Are The Ones Who Sacked Rome.fear Only Feeble Old Age And Death In Bed.don't Forget Who You Are.

The Night Crackled ... Everything Had Turned To Static Electricity In The Heat. I Combed My Hair To Watch The Sparks Fly From The Ends.

That Was What She Really Wanted. To Forget So Thoroughly She'd Never Have Another Memory Again, The Bitter So Bitter You Gave Up The Sweet.