You Got A Death Wish, Truant?' Which

Little Solace Comes To Those Who Grieve When Thoughts Keep Drifting As Walls Keep Shifting And This Great Blue World Of Ours Seems A House Of Leaves Moments Before The Wind.

I Do Not Know Anything About Art With A Capital A. What I Do Know About Is My Art. Because It Concerns Me. I Do Not Speak For Others. So I Do Not Speak For Things Which Profess To Speak For Others. My Art, However, Speaks For Me. It Lights My Way.

Here Then At Long Last Is My Darkness. No Cry Of Light, No Glimmer, Not Even The Faintest Shard Of Hope To Break Free Across The Hold.

Scars Are The Paler Pain Of Survival Received Unwillingly And Displayed In The Language Of Injury.

Do Not Wake Me From This Slumber, But Be Assured That Just As I Have Wept Much, I Have Also Wandered Many Roads With My Thoughts.