Remember the sight we saw, my soul, that beautiful, soft summer morning, round a turning in the path, a disgusting carcass on a bed scattered with stones, its legs in the air like a woman in heat, burning and sweating poisons, like a fountain with its rhythmical sobs. I could hear it clearly flowing with a long murmuring sound, but I touch my body in vain to find the wound. I am the vampire of my own heart. One of the great outcasts condemned to eternal laughter who can no longer smile. Am I dead? I must be dead.
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This quote was added August 12, 2007.