The Pimp Has A Grin,

They Spent Their Time Doing Nothing... They Let Intimacy Fuse Them.

...beauty Is The Projection Of Ugliness And By Developing Certain Monstrosities We Obtain The Purest Ornaments.

I Decided To Be What Crime Made Of Me.

In Order To Weep, I Had Descended To The Realm Of The Dead Themselves, To Their Secret Chambers, Led By The Invisible But Soft Hands Of Birds Down Stairways Which Were Folded Up Again As I Advanced. I Displayed My Grief In The Friendly Fields Of Death, Far From Men: Within Myself.

One Can Hear All That's Going On In The Street. Which Means That From The Street One Can Hear What's Going On In This House.