Conscience is no more than the dead speaking to us.

I'll Die For Your Sins If You Live For mine.

all right buddah gets a backstage pass but all his friends have to pay

I wait on the origin of night's sounds waking. I knowthat here only the blind man sings, even in rainThe notes of drenched violins rise like warped mirrors'and the last clouds part slowly, like a cracked wheel.

Whiteness is the color of death, you know, not black. Wetness is life, the breeder and shaper of life. In the beginning the sun was black. So all light was absorbed before it had a chance to return. And our dreams, then, were empty.