And as the sun, that had been too afraid to show its face in this city, started to turn the black into grey, I smiled.

That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow.

Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand. Blood and revenge are hammering in my head.

You cannot stop me, not with wine or vows or the weight of age. You cannot stop me, but still you try.

Welcome destruction, blood, and massacre. I see, as in a map, the end of all.

Grief forgives what can never be forgiven.

As a man, I'm flesh and blood. I can be ignored, I can be destroyed.

They have tied me to a stake—I cannot fly. But, bear-like, I must fight the course.

Did I finally reach the limits of reason? And find the Devil waiting?

We both stared into the abyss, but when it looked back at us, you blinked.

He is come to open the purple testament of bleeding war.

...and darkness be the burier of the dead.

I can live no longer by thinking.

Smoldering, I burn you—burning you, I flare, hot and bright and fierce and beautiful.

...how many hours bring about the day, how many days will finish up the year, how many years a mortal man may live.

Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.

I will break and twist things within you. You can't conceive of the pain I can cause.

I will encounter darkness as a bride, and hug it in my arms.

We die every day...a thousand times an hour.

I am a feather for each wind that blows.

I will grind your bones to dust. And with your blood and it I’ll make a paste.

I'm a man of thirty—of twenty again. The rain on my chest is a baptism. I'm born again.

Then all you've waited for is a puppet. A soulless little doll.

I will not become an executioner.

Sometimes it's only madness that makes us what we are.

As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods—they kill us for their sport.

Weep I cannot. But my heart bleeds.

The weight of this sad time we must obey.

You'll hunt me. You'll condemn me, set the dogs on me.