I'll remember your apocalypse if you'll remember mineIt will be a holiday of the senses
Let her remain where she is. A constellation away.
... it's pointless to think in moral terms when everything is permissible. We have become the people we detest. We have lost the capacity to imagine what is forbidden We have been freed, in other word...
My angels are jellyfish,electric, nearly invisible,armed with poisoned harpoons.My archangels are yellow tang.They feed on sunlight.They speak through color.Anything in their paths turns blind.
There's a strong message of divine righteousness in dictatorships. Every megalomaniac has to believe his actions are sanctioned by God.
Forgetting: that, too, was the heart's slow way of healing, but it could only be done alone. Love and loss turns us into the most solitary of creatures, their mysteries can never entirely be shared.
Fuck words, nothing spokencomprehends the defiantly ephemeral.I take my incompleteness with the rest, an exilein any language.
I would like to write a suicide note in three and a halflanguagesand travel south on a Thursday towardssome form of life outside of earth
He was a poet -oh all men are when they're in love.
