Music Fathoms The Sky.

A Sweetheart Is A Bottle Of Wine, A Wife Is A Wine Bottle.

The Priest Is An Immense Being Because He Makes The Crowd Believe Astonishing Things.

I Have Cultivated My Hysteria With Delight And Terror. Now I Suffer Continually From Vertigo, And Today, 23rd Of January, 1862, I Have Received A Singular Warning, I Have Felt The Wind Of The Wing Of Madness Pass Over Me.

I Will Drop Into Your Chest Like A Vegetal Ambrosia. I Will Be The Grain That Regenerates The Cruelly Plowed Furrow. Poetry Will Be Born Of Our Intimate Union. A God We Shall Create Together, And We Shall Soar Heavenward Like Sunbeams, Perfumes, Butterflies, Birds, And All Winged Things.

Nature Is A Word, An Allegory, A Mold, An Embossing, If You Will.