A Book Is A Garden, A Party,

It Is The Greatest Art Of The Devil To Convince Us He Does Not Exist.

Today I Had A Strange Warning. I Felt The Wind Of Insanity Brush My Mind.

I Throw Fresh Seeds Out. Who Knows What Survives?

It Would Perhaps Be Nice To Be Alternately The Victim And The Executioner.

Every Healthy Man Can Do Without Food For Two Days — But Without Poetry, Never!