I found I could extinguish all human hope from my soul.

Only divine love bestows the keys of knowledge.

A thousand Dreams within me softly burn

One evening I sat Beauty on my knees – And I found her bitter – And I reviled her.

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

I'm now making myself as scummy as I can. Why? I want to be a poet, and I'm working at turning myself into a seer. You won't understand any of this, and I'm almost incapable of explaining it to you. The idea is to reach the unknown by the derangement of all the senses. It involves enormous suffering, but one must be strong and be a born poet. It's really not my fault.

In the great glasshouses streaming with condensation, the children in mourning-dress beheld marvels.