The wolf howled under the leaves And spit out the prettiest feathers Of his meal of fowl: Like him I consume myself.
Arthur RimbaudI dreamed of Crusades, voyages of discovery that nobody had heard of, republics without histories, religious wars stamped out, revolutions in morals, movements of races and continents; I used to believe in every kind of magic. I began it as an investigation. I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still.
Arthur Rimbaud