Give me the death of my soul. Intoxicate me with self-love.

My desires sprang forth as a mighty sun - all embracing - associating in the form - vortex, to enjoy ALL consciousness

Give me the death of my soul. Intoxicate me with self-love.

And remember, you shall suffer all things and again suffer: until you have sufficient sufferance to accept all things.

In our solitariness... great depths are sometimes sounded. Truth hideth in company.

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.

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.