Sometimes I wonder if I'm in my right mind. Then it passes off and I'm as intelligent as ever.

The essential doesn't change.

Hardly had the glow been kindled by some good deed on your part or by some little triumph over your rivals or by a word of praisefrom your parents or mentors when it would begin to cool and fade leaving you in a very short time as chill and dim as before.

Go on failing. Go on. Only next time, try to fail better.

I had little talent for happiness.

You would do better, at least no worse, to obliterate texts than to blacken margins, to fill in the holes of words till all is blank and flat and the whole ghastly business looks like what it is, senseless, speechless, issueless misery.

Poets are the sense, philosophers­­ the intelligence­­ of humanity.