The dead sleep in their moonless night.
All history is an epitaph.
A few more days,
and idle eyes will run over your obituary
the world will forget you.
Darkling I listen; and for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more often than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain...
-Keats
"I
was not content to believe in a personal devil and serve him, in the ordinary
sense of the word. I wanted to get hold of him personally and become his
chief of staff."
Aleister Crowley (1875-1947)
For your
pure chewing satisfaction, here's a little about me.
CLICK
HERE