True alchemy lies in this formula: ‘Your memory and your senses are but the nourishment of your creative impulse’.
Whose hearts must I break? What lies must I maintain? - Through whose blood am I to wade ?
All day long he was docile, intelligent, good, Though sometimes changing to a darker mood. He seemed hypocritical, could tell better lies, in the dark he saw dots of colors behind closed eyes, clenched fists, put his tongue out at his elder brother.
To whom shall I hire myself out? What beast should I adore? What holy image is attacked? What hearts shall I break? What lies shall I uphold? In what blood tread?
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