Let us simmer over our incalculable cauldron, our enthralling confusion, our hotchpotch of impulses, our perpetual miracle - for the soul throws up wonders every second. Movement and change are the essence of our being; rigidity is death; conformity is death; let us say what comes into our heads, repeat ourselves, contradict ourselves, fling out the wildest nonsense, and follow the most fantastic fancies without caring what the world does or thinks or says. For nothing matters except life.

If it were now to die, 'twere now to be most happy.

There was no treachery too base for the world to commit.

My mind works in idleness. To do nothing is often my most profitable way.

My brain hums with scraps of poetry and madness.

But I beneath a rougher sea, And whelmed in deeper gulfs than he.

Literature is no one’s private ground, literature is common ground; let us trespass freely and fearlessly and find our own way for ourselves.