I Watch The Springs, The Summers, The

Music Fathoms The Sky.

I Have Cultivated My Hysteria With Pleasure And Terror.

To Handle A Language Skillfully Is To Practice A Kind Of Evocative Sorcery.

Oh, Creator! Can Monsters Exist In The Sight Of Him Who Alone Knows How They Were Invented, How They Invented Themselves, And How They Might Not Have Invented Themselves?

We Are Weighed Down, Every Moment, By The Conception And The Sensation Of Time. And There Are But Two Means Of Escaping And Forgetting This Nightmare: Pleasure And Work. Pleasure Consumes Us. Work Strengthens Us. Let Us Choose.