You'll Learn, Honey. Love Can Be The

Well, Here He Was. They Could Save Each Other, The Way The Poets Promised Lovers Should. He Was Mystery, He Was Darkness, He Was All She Had Dreamed Of. And If She Would Only Free Him He Would Service Her - Oh Yes - Until Her Pleasure Reached That Threshold That, Like All Thresholds, Was A Place Where The Strong Grew Stronger, And The Weak Perished. Pleasure Was Pain There, And Vice Versa. And He Knew It Well Enough To Call It Home.

Walk With Care In Dark Places, And Do Not Put Your Faith In Anyone Who Promises You The Forgiveness Of The Lord Or A Certain Place In Paradise.

Writing About The Unholy Is One Way Of Writing About What Is Sacred.

Study Nothing Except In The Knowledge That You Already Knew It. Worship Nothing Except In Adoration Of Your True Self. And Fear Nothing Except In The Certainty That You Are Your Enemy's Begetter And Its Only Hope Of Healing.

You Just Have To Trust Your Own Madness.