Love Makes Use Of The

Love Makes Use Of The Worst Traps. The Least Noble. The Rarest. It Exploits Coincidence.

By Stretching Language We'll Distort It Sufficiently To Wrap Ourselves In It And Hide.

Anyone Who Knows A Strange Fact Shares In Its Singularity.

In Reviewing My Life, In Tracing Its Course, I Fill My Cell With The Pleasure Of Being What For Want Of A Trifle I Failed To Be, Recapturing, So That I May Hurl Myself Into Them As Into Dark Pits, Those Moments When I Strayed Through The Trap-ridden Compartments Of A Subterranean Sky

Violence Is A Calm That Disturbs You.