Now More Than Ever Do I Realize

The Way I See It, There Is No Greater Spiritual Beauty Than Fanaticism, Of A Sort So Sincere It Can Only End In Martyrdom.

I Feel Alone, Free, And Detached From Everything In The World, And I'm Happy.

The Savage Hatred I Feel For Crowds Is Getting Worse, Natural Enemies That They Are Of Imagination And Of Thought.

I Am Full Of The Sorrow That Goes With Changes In Surroundings, Those Successive Stages Of Annihilation That Slowly Lead To The Great And Final Void.

I Will Only Ever Be Drawn To People Who Suffer From That Special And Fertile Anguish Called Self-doubt, Or The Thirst For The Ideal, And Desire For The Soul's Mystical Fire. Self-satisfaction Because Of Some Material Accomplishment Will Never Be For Me. The Truly Great Are Those Who Quest For Better Spiritual Selves.