Life Consists Of Burning Up Questions.

I Have Need Of Angels. Enough Hell Has Swallowed Me For Too Many Years. But Finally Understand This--i Have Burned Up One Hundred Thousand Human Lives Already, From The Strength Of My Pain.

I Prefer The People Who Eat Off The Bare Earth The Delirium From Which They Were Born.

It Is Thus That The Few Rare Lucid Well-disposed People Who Have Had To Struggle On The Earth Find Themselves At Certain Hours Of The Day Or Night In The Depth Of Certain Authentic And Waking Nightmare States, Surrounded By The Formidable Suction, The Formidable Oppression Of A Kind Of Civic Magic Which Will Soon Be Seen Appearing Openly In Social Behavior.

Those Who Live, Live Off The Dead.

So Society Has Strangled In Its Asylums All Those It Wanted To Get Rid Of Or Protect Itself From, Because They Refused To Become Its Accomplices In Certain Great Nastinesses.