(And Angel said: 'Thus every one of your boasts
that what he writes is new; tho' it is only
the Contents or Index of already publish'd
books. A man carried a monkey about for a
show, and because he was a little wiser than
the monkey, grew vain, and conceiv'd himself
himself as much wiser than seven men. It is
with every one of you: he shows the folly of
churches, and exposes hypocrities, till he
imagines that all are religious, and himself
the single one on earth that ever broke a net.
Now hear a plain fact: He has not written one
new truth. Now hear another: he has written
all the old falsehoods. And now hear the reason.
He conversed with Angels who are all religious,
and conversed not with Devils who all hate
religion, for he was incapable thro' his
conceited notions. Thus his writings are a
recapitulation of all superficial opinions,
and analysis of the more sublime but no further.')
I have done all my quests.
I am glad more or less.
Last time when I had gone -
She had screamed she would come
And try to recognise
What a deuce... Wench am I!
I shalt bring many things
When I spread my dark wings.
So ye wilt scream and cry -
I shalt hurt ye and I'll
Raise your laugh for a while
After that... Whore am I!
In the groove!
The most of you will never got to be happy at all
Because you can only weep and complain,
Because you try to remember your own childhood's days...
I've got to remind you of coffins
And haunt you again and again
And the chain of life won't break anyway...
So, eaten bread is soon forgotten -
Taken cares soon disappear!
