What is madness but nobility of soul at odds with circumstance?
Should we say the self, once perceived, becomes the soul?
What's important? That which is dug out of books, or out of the guts?
Over every mountain there is a path, although it may not be seen from the valley.
I can't go on flying apart just for those who want the benefit of a few verbal kicks. My God, do you know what poems like that cost? They're not written vicariously: they come out of actual suffering, real madness.
The damage of teaching: the constant contact with the undeveloped.