Give me the death of my soul. Intoxicate me with self-love.
Darken your room, shut the door, empty your mind. You are still in great company.
For I am I: ergo, the truth of myself; my own sphinx, conflict, chaos, vortex—asymmetric to all rhythms, oblique to all paths. I am the prism between black and white: mine own unison in duality.
The more Chaotic I am, the more complete I am.
Great thoughts are against all doctrines of conformity
The three heads of God were sundered from existence. Who shall say that this was accident? And likewise, who shall say that accidents be not but arabesques within some wider figure? Of this nothing is known.