Reality In Strong Doses Frightens.

Every Bird Which Flies Has The Thread Of The Infinite In Its Claw.

There Shall Be No Slavery Of The Mind.

Melancholy Is The Pleasure Of Being Sad.

In Short, I Am Doing What I Can, I Suffer With The Same Universal Suffering, And I Try To Assuage It, I Possess Only The Puny Forces Of A Man, And I Cry To All: “help Me!

There Are No Rules For Felicity.