Suffering is the main condition of the artistic experience.

Don't look for meaning in the words. Listen to the silences.

What is this love that more than all the cursed deadly or any other of its great movers so moves the soul and soul what is this soul that more than by any of its great movers is by love so moved?

What kind of country is this where a woman can't weep her heart out on the highways and byways without being tormented by retired bill-brokers!

Spend the years of learning squandering Courage for the years of wandering Through a world politely turning From the loutishness of learning.

What can it matter to me, that I succeed or fail ? The undertaking is none of mine, if they want me to succeed I'll fail, and vice versa, so as not to be rid of my tormentors.

The reality of the individualis an incoherent reality and must be expressed incoherently.