Better The Illusions That Exalt Us Than

Somewhere Between Obsession And Compulsion Is Impulse.

I've Lived To Bury My Desires And See My Dreams Corrode With Rust Now All That's Left Are Fruitless Fires That Burn My Empty Heart To Dust. Struck By The Clouds Of Cruel Fate My Crown Of Summer Bloom Is Sere Alone And Sad, I Watch And Wait And Wonder If The End Is Near. As Conquered By The Last Cold Air When Winter Whistles In The Wind Alone Upon A Branch That's Bare A Trembling Leaf Is Left Behind.

A Man Who's Active And Incisive Can Yet Keep Nail-care Much In Mind: Why Fight What's Known To Be Decisive? Custom Is Despot Of Mankind.

Better The Illusions That Exalt Us Than Ten Thousand Truths.

My Whole Life Has Been Pledged To This Meeting With You.