The World Changes, We Do

Keep Your Secrets Keep Your Silence It Is A Better Gift Than Truth

You Never Know The Palette Of The One You Kill Until The Mind Disgorges Its Finest Colours.

Who Knew That Better Than I, Who Had Presided Over The Death Of My Own Body, Seeing All I Called Human Wither And Die Only To Form An Unbreakable Chain Which Held Me Fast To This World Yet Made Me Forever Its Exile, A Specter With A Beating Heart?

I Think All Of Us Ordinary Mortals Tend To Mythologize People As Good-looking As You.

Oh, My Darling, Wish You Were Here! And My Dark Soul Is Happy Again, Because It Does Not Know How To Be Anything Else For Very Long, And Because The Pain Is A Deep Dark Sea In Which I Would Drown If I Did Not Sail My Little Craft Steadily Over The Surface, Steadily Towards A Sun Which Will Never Rise.