Writing Is A Sweet, Wonderful Reward.

I Can't Feel A Thing; All Mournful Petal Storms Are Dancing Inside The Very Private Spring Of My Head.

Logic May Indeed Be Unshakeable, But It Cannot Withstand A Man Who Is Determined To Live.

The Truth Is Always An Abyss.

Sometimes I Think I Can Expiate All My Past And Future Sins Through The Aching Of My Bones.

The Crows Maintain That A Single Crow Could Destroy The Heavens. There Is No Doubt Of That, But It Proves Nothing Against The Heavens, For Heaven Simply Means: The Impossibility Of Crows.