Genius is the recovery of childhood at will.
Whose hearts must I break? What lies must I maintain? - Through whose blood am I to wade ?
. . . be absolute moderne.
I went out under the sky, Muse! and I was your vassal.
I have stretched ropes from steeple to steeple; garlands from window to window; golden chains from star to star, and I dance.
In the great glasshouses streaming with condensation, the children in mourning-dress beheld marvels.