PREFACE

ah what be worse for thee incessant thinking round and round deconstructing in solipsism’s loneliness indifferent to the world no desires no passions fires but
be this a living death and to what end be it for this nothingness of detachment
or
be it worse than passions fires thee driving made with cravings desires on fire with lust with insatiable fires driving one mad unremittingly incessantly no respite fromst the cravings fire
which do ask I thee
which madness doth thee aspire for thee