What is madness but nobility of soul at odds with circumstance?
I have gone into the waste lonely places
Reason? That dreary shed, that hutch for grubby schoolboys.
God bless the roots! Body and soul are one.
What's important? That which is dug out of books, or out of the guts?
What have I done, dear God, to deserve this perpetual feeling that I'm almost ready to begin something really new?