We Are All Born; Some Remain So.

I Have Nothing But Wastes And Wilds Of Self-translation Before Me For Many Miserable Months To Come.

It Sometimes Happens And Will Sometimes Happen Again That I Forget Who I Am And Strut Before My Eyes, Like A Stranger.

Go On Failing. Go On. Only Next Time, Try To Fail Better.

What Goes By The Name Of Love Is Banishment, With Now And Then A Postcard From The Homeland, Such Is My Considered Opinion, This Evening.

But I Know What Darkness Is, It Accumulates, Thickens, Then Suddenly Bursts And Drowns Everything.