We, all who live, have A life that is lived And another life that is thought, And the only life we have It's the one that is divided In right or wrong.

The beauty of a naked body is felt only by the dressed races.

I realize that, while often happy and often cheerful, I am always sad.

I enjoy wording. Words for me are tangible bodies, visible sirens, incarnate sensualities.

I know nothing and my heart aches

Give to each emotion a personality, to each state of mind a soul.

All of this passes, and none of it means anything to me.It's all foreign to my fate, and even to fate as a whole. It'sjust unconsciousness, curses of protest when chance hurlsstones, echoes of unknown voices - a collectivemishmash of life.