I Am No Man, I Am Dynamite.

But Not To Perish From Internal Distress And Doubt When One Inflicts Great Suffering And Hears The Cry Of Suffering : That Is Great, That Belongs To Greatness.

Because We Have For Millenia Made Moral, Aesthetic, Religious Demands On The World, Looked Upon It With Blind Desire, Passion Or Fear, And Abandoned Ourselves To The Bad Habits Of Illogical Thinking, This World Has Gradually Become So Marvelously Variegated, Frightful, Meaningful, Soulful, It Has Acquired Color - But We Have Been The Colorists: It Is The Human Intellect That Has Made Appearances Appear And Transported Its Erroneous Basic Conceptions Into Things.

Growth In Wisdom Can Be Measured Precisely By Decline In Bile.

Those Things For Which We Find Words, Are Things We Have Already Overcome.

The Poet Presents His Thoughts Festively, On The Carriage Of Rhythm: Usually Because They Could Not Walk.