It Is Always Sad To Leave A

For A Long Time Now My Heart Has Had Its Shutters Closed, Its Steps Deserted, Formerly A Tumultuous Hotel, But Now Empty And Echoing Like A Great Empty Tomb.

One Mustn't Always Believe That Feeling Is Everything. In The Arts, It Is Nothing Without Form.

Happiness Is A Monstrosity! Punished Are Those Who Seek It.

And He Beholds The Moon; Like A Rounded Fragment Of Ice Filled With Motionless Light.

The Deplorable Mania Of Doubt Exhausts Me. I Doubt About Everything, Even My Doubts.