No One's Serious At Seventeen.

I Dreamed Of Crusades, Voyages Of Discovery That Nobody Had Heard Of, Republics Without Histories, Religious Wars Stamped Out, Revolutions In Morals, Movements Of Races And Continents; I Used To Believe In Every Kind Of Magic. I Began It As An Investigation. I Turned Silences And Nights Into Words. What Was Unutterable, I Wrote Down. I Made The Whirling World Stand Still.

Misfortune Was My God.

Morality Is The Weakness Of The Mind.

And From Then On, I Bathed In The Poem Of The Sea, Star-infused, And Opalescent, Devouring Green Azures

. . . Be Absolute Moderne.