All Of This Passes, And None Of

Life Is Good, But Wine Is Better.

A Being Who, As I Grew Older, Lost Imagination, Emotion, A Type Of Intelligence, A Way Of Feeling Things - All That Which, While It Made Me Sorry, Did Not Horrify Me. But What Am I Experiencing When I Read Myself As If I Were Someone Else? On Which Bank Am I Standing If I See Myself In The Depths?

Pg.9 "in My Heart There's A Peaceful Anguish, And My Calm Is Made Of Resignation.

Without Madness What Is Man But A Wholesome Beast, Postponed Corpse That Begets?

Everything I Sought In Life I Abandoned For The Sake Of The Search. I'm Like One Who Absentmindedly Looks For He Doesn't Know What, Having Forgotten It In His Dreaming As The Search Got Under Way.