Old Women Can See Through

At The Heart Of All Great Art Is An Essential Melancholy.

Ever Since I Got Married I've Been Thinking Night And Day About Whose Fault It Was, And Every Time I Think About It, Out Comes A New Fault To Eat Up The Old One; But Always There's A Fault Left.

Death, Vicious Death, Leave A Green Branch For Love.

The World Is A Shoulder Of Dark Meat (black Flesh Of An Old Mule). And The Light Is On The Other Side.

Hail, Mute Devil! You Are The Most Intense Animal. An Eternal Mystic Of The Fleshly Inferno.