Some Day The Devil Will

Let Me But Make A Beginning, Let Me But Strike The World In A Vulnerable Spot, And I Can Take It By Storm.

I Am A Genius. Then It Amused Me To Keep Saying So, But Now It Does Not. I Expected To Be Happy Sometime. Now I Know I Shall Never Be.

Genius, Apart From Natural Sensitiveness, Is Prone Equally To Unreasoning Joy And To Bitterest Morbidness.

One's Thoughts Are One's Most Crucial Adventures. Seriously And Strongly And Intently To Contemplate Doing Murder Is Everyway More Exciting, More Romantic, More Profoundly Tragic Than The Murder Done.

However Great One's Gift Of Language May Be, There Is Always Something That One Cannot Tell.