I loved words. I love to sing them and speak them and even now, I must admit, I have fallen into the joy of writing them.

Your quest is for darkness only. This sea is not your sea. The myths of men are not your myths. Men's treasures are not yours.

Go where the pain is, go where the pleasure is.

I stumble through a carnival of horrors

Who knew that better than I, who had presided over the death of my own body, seeing all I called human wither and die only to form an unbreakable chain which held me fast to this world yet made me forever its exile, a specter with a beating heart?

Artists are meant to be madmen, to disturb and shock us.

I'm going to keep on dealing with the supernatural in a lot of ways.