But my sadness is comforting Because it’s right and natural And because it’s what the soul should feel When it already thinks it exists And the hand pick flowers And the soul takes no notice.

Decadence is the total loss of unconsciousness, which is the very basis of life. Could it think, the heart would stop beating.

Should I be what I think? But I think about being so many things!

And, like the great damned souls, I shall always feel that thinking is worth more than living.

The inventor of the mirror poisoned the human heart.

Multipliquei-me para me sentir.

I realize that I was all error and deviation, that I never lived, that I existed only in so far as I filled time with consciousness and thought.