Statues To Great Men Are Made Of

The World Owes Its Enchantment To These Curious Creatures And Their Fancies; But Its Multiple Complicity Rejects Them. Thistledown Spirits, Tragic, Heartrending In Their Evanescence, They Must Go Blowing Headlong To Perdition.

I Am Burning Myself Up And Will Always Do So.

If A Hermit Lives In A State Of Ecstasy, His Lack Of Comfort Becomes The Height Of Comfort. He Must Relinquish It.

Youth Can Only Assert Itself Through The Conviction That Its Ventures Surpass All Others And Resemble Nothing.

I Only Fear The Death Of Others. For Me, True Death Is That Of The People I Love