That Is Our ‘pointed Task. Love &

I Conclude Now I Have No Inner Resources, Because I Am Heavy Bored. Peoples Bore Me, Literature Bores Me, Especially Great Literature.

This World Is Gradually Becoming A Place Where I Do Not Care To Be Any More.

The Artist Is Extremely Lucky Who Is Presented With The Worst Possible Ordeal Which Will Not Actually Kill Him. At That Point, He's In Business.

I Cry. Evil Dissolves, & Love, Like Foam; That Love. Prattle Of Children Powers Me Home, My Heart Claps Like The Swan's Under A Frenzy Of Who Love Me & Who Shine.

These Songs Are Not Meant To Be Understood, You Understand. They Are Only Meant To Terrify & Comfort.