Only divine love bestows the keys of knowledge.

What an old maid I'm getting to be. lacking the courage to be in love with death!

For a long time I found the celebrities of modern painting and poetry ridiculous. I loved absurd pictures, fanlights, stage scenery, mountebanks backcloths, inn-signs, cheap colored prints; unfashionable literature, church Latin, pornographic books badly spelt, grandmothers novels, fairy stories, little books for children, old operas, empty refrains, simple rhythms.

Oh! If only we were naked now, and free to watch our protruding parts align; To whisper - both of us - in ecstasy!

And from then on, I bathed in the Poem of the Sea, star-infused, and opalescent, devouring green azures

-But I've just noticed that my mind is asleep.

I shed more tears than God could ever have required.