Sublime

Ah, if he could only die

As a politician, he will cry out that war is a waste of life, and then, as a philosopher, that all life is waste of time.

Edgar Allan Poe’s short story The Man of the Crowd.

I believe the road to hell is paved with adverbs, and I will shout it from the rooftops.

The imbeciles are not content to calumniate, to persecute, to make wretched the artist in his lifetime. They follow him with their praise to the grave—the grave that they have digged! Praise of the populace! Praise of a race of pigs! For, you see, while they are insulting the dead with their compliments they are at the same time insulting the livin

Father grinned and winked at his visitor. Joe Kane decided that the man who confronted him was mildly insane but harmless.

I simply await the day that they drag me to some air-conditioned dungeon and leave me there beneath the fluorescent lights and soundproofed ceiling to pay the price for scorning all that they hold dear within their little latex hearts.

abandon hopelessness, all ye who enter here.

My impetuosity some times compelled him to have resort to misrepresentations and untruths.