I Found I Could Extinguish All Human

And I Am Still Alive-what Though, My Damnation Is Eternal. A Man Who Deliberately Mutilates Himself Is Truly Damned, Is He Not? I Believe That I Am In Hell, Therefore I Am.

It Was The Voice Of Mad Seas, Roaring Immense,/ That Shattered Your Infant Breast, Too Soft, Too Human.

On The Blue Summer Evenings, I Will Go Along The Paths, And Walk Over The Short Grass, As I Am Pricked By The Wheat: Daydreaming I Will Feel The Coolness On My Feet. I Will Let The Wind Bathe My Bare Head. I Will Not Speak, I Will Have No Thoughts: But Infinite Love Will Mount In My Soul; And I Will Go Far, Far Off, Like A Gypsy, Through The Countryside - As Happy As If I Were A Woman. "sensation

The Poet, Therefore, Is Truly The Thief Of Fire. He Is Responsible For Humanity, For Animals Even; He Will Have To Make Sure His Visions Can Be Smelled, Fondled, Listened To; If What He Brings Back From Beyond Has Form, He Gives It Form; If It Has None, He Gives It None. A Language Must Be Found…of The Soul, For The Soul And Will Include Everything: Perfumes, Sounds Colors, Thought Grappling With Thought

To Whom Shall I Hire Myself Out? What Beast Should I Adore? What Holy Image Is Attacked? What Hearts Shall I Break? What Lies Shall I Uphold? In What Blood Tread?