To Achieve Harmony In Bad Taste Is

I Give The Name Violence To A Boldness Lying Idle And Enamored Of Danger.

Ah Those Knock-out Body Fluids: Blood, Sperm, Tears!

The Pimp Has A Grin, Never A Smile.

In Reviewing My Life, In Tracing Its Course, I Fill My Cell With The Pleasure Of Being What For Want Of A Trifle I Failed To Be, Recapturing, So That I May Hurl Myself Into Them As Into Dark Pits, Those Moments When I Strayed Through The Trap-ridden Compartments Of A Subterranean Sky

Anyone Who Hasn't Experienced The Ecstasy Of Betrayal Knows Nothing About Ecstasy At All.