Everything For Me Becomes Allegory

The Study Of Beauty Is A Duel In Which The Artist Cries Out In Terror Before He Is Defeated.

No Task Is A Long One But The Task On Which One Dare Not Start. It Becomes A Nightmare.

As The End Of The Century Approaches, All Our Culture Is Like Flies At The Beginning Of Winter. Having Lost Their Agility, Dreamy And Demented, They Turn Slowly About The Window In The First Icy Mists Of Morning, . . . [then] They Fall Down The Curtains.

Music Fathoms The Sky.

What Is It That Brings On These Moods Of Yours? Nothing Mysterious: The Ordinary Pain Of Being Alive.