Even The Damned In Hell Have The

Where Hunters And Woodcutters Once Slept In Their Boots By The Dying Light Of Their Thousand Fires And Went On, Old Teutonic Forebears With Eyes Incandesced By The Visionary Light Of A Massive Rapacity, Wave On Wave Of The Violent And The Insane, Their Brains Stoked With Spoorless Analogues Of All That Was, Lean Aryans With Their Abrogate Semitic Chapbook Reenacting The Dramas And Parable Therein.

At One Time In The World There Were Woods That No One Owned

Scars Have The Strange Power To Remind Us That Our Past Is Real.

You Never Know What Worse Luck Your Bad Luck Has Saved You From.

A Dream Inside A Dream Might Not Be A Dream.