It Is Wrong To Say:

And From That Time On I Bathed In The Poem Of The Sea, Star-infused And Churned Into Milk, Devouring The Green Azures; Where, Entranced In Pallid Flotsam, A Dreaming Drowned Man Sometimes Goes Down.

To Whom Shall I Hire Myself Out? What Beast Should I Adore? What Holy Image Is Attacked? What Hearts Shall I Break? What Lies Shall I Uphold? In What Blood Tread?

I Am The Slave Of My Baptism. Parents, You Have Caused My Misfortune, And You Have Caused Your Own.

Whose Hearts Must I Break? What Lies Must I Maintain? - Through Whose Blood Am I To Wade ?

It Began As Research. I Wrote Of Silences, Of Nights, I Scribbled The Indescribable. I Tied Down The Vertigo.