An Unusual Beginning Must Have An Unusual

I Love Enemies, Though Not In The Christian Way. They Amuse Me, Excite My Blood. Being Always On One’s Guard, Catching Every Glance, The Significance Of Every Word, Guessing At Intentions, Frustrating Their Plots, Pretending To Be Tricked, And Suddenly, With A Shove, Upturning The Whole Enormous And Arduously Built Edifice Of Their Cunning And Schemes—that’s What I Call Life.

I Have A Congenital Desire To Contradict; My Whole Life Is Merely A Chain Of Sad And Unsuccessful Contradictions To Heart And Mind. When Faced With Enthusiasm, I Am Seized By A Midwinter Freeze, And I Suppose That Frequent Dealings With Sluggish Phlegmatics Would Have Made A Passionate Dreamer.

My Whole Life Has Been Merely A Succession Of Miserable And Unsuccessful Denials Of Feelings Or Reason.

It Is Sad To See A Young Man's Fondest Hopes And Dreams Shattered When The Rose-colured Veil Is Plucked Away And He Sees The Actions And Feelings Of Men For What They Are. But He Still Has The Hope Of Replacing His Old Illusions With Others, Just As Fleeting, But Also Just As Sweet.

He In His Madness Prays For Storms, And Dreams That Storms Will Bring Him Peace.