I invented the colors of the vowels!--A black, E white, I red, O blue, U green--I made rules for the form and movement of each consonant, and, and with instinctive rhythms, I flattered myself that I had created a poetic language accessible, some day, to all the senses.

Romanticism has never been properly judged. Who was there to judge it? The critics!

No one's serious at seventeen.

Faith assuages, guides, restores.

Idle youth, enslaved to everything; by being too sensitive I have wasted my life.

Only divine love bestows the keys of knowledge.

It began as research. I wrote of silences, of nights, I scribbled the indescribable. I tied down the vertigo.