Life, the permission to know death.

Love is the first lie; wisdom the last.

Destiny and history are untidy.

To think is to be sick.

Life is painful, nasty and short.. in my case it has only been painful and nasty.

Love becomes the deposit of the heart, analogous in all degrees to the 'findings' in a tomb. As in one will be charted the taken place of the body, the raiment, the utensils necessary to its other life, so in the heart of the lover will be traced, as an indelible shadow, that which he loves.

Why is it that whenever I hear music I think I’m a bride?