I Only Take A Half Share In

What A Gloomy Thing, Not To Know The Address Of One's Soul.

There Are Souls Which, Crab-like, Crawl Continually Toward Darkness, Going Back In Life Rather Than Advancing In It, Using What Experience They Have To Increase Their Deformity, Growing Worse Without Ceasing, And Becoming Steeped More And More Thoroughly In An Intensifying Wickedness.

We See Past Time In A Telescope And Present Time In A Microscope. Hence The Apparent Enormities Of The Present.

People Do Not Read Stupidities With Impunity.

A Translation In Verse . . . Seems To Me Something Absurd, Impossible.