He once cut one of my nightmares out of paper. I thought it was beautiful, I put it on a record cover.

There is no truth. There is only you and what you make the truth.

Your eyes are poor. You're blind. You see, no beauty could have come from me. I'm a waste of breath, of space, of time.

If I sold my soul for a bag of gold to you, which one of us would be the foolish one?

L'etude du beau est un duel ou l'artiste crie de frayeur avant d'etre vaincu.

The blessed damozel lean'd out From the gold bar of Heaven; Her eyes were deeper than the depth Of waters still'd at even; She had three lilies in her hand, An…

We always had a vision, but we weren't sure if it would translate or just come off as pretentious, we were playing basements, and Gerard would be like straight…