Hay Que Ser Absolutamente Moderno

It Is Wrong To Say: I Think. One Ought To Say: I Am Thought. I Is Someone Else.

Morality Is The Weakness Of The Mind.

A Thousand Dreams Within Me Softly Burn

A Thousand Dreams Within Me Softly Burn: From Time To Time My Heart Is Like Some Oak Whose Blood Runs Golden Where A Branch Is Torn.

And From That Time On I Bathed In The Poem Of The Sea, Star-infused And Churned Into Milk, Devouring The Green Azures; Where, Entranced In Pallid Flotsam, A Dreaming Drowned Man Sometimes Goes Down.