And I am still alive-what though, my damnation is eternal. A man who deliberately mutilates himself is truly damned, is he not? I believe that I am in hell, therefore I am.

But the problem is to make the soul into a monster

The Sun, the hearth of affection and life, pours burning love on the delighted earth.

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

The northern lights rise like a kiss to the sea

A thousand Dreams within me softly burn

I believe that I am in hell, therefore I am there.