We Have Stopped Believing In Progress. What

I Ask Of Any God, Of Any Gods, That If They Give Immortality, I Hope To Be Granted Oblivion Also.

I Thought Of A Labyrinth Of Labyrinths, Of One Sinuous Spreading Labyrinth That Would Encompass The Past And The Future . . . I Felt Myself To Be, For An Unknown Period Of Time, An Abstract Perceiver Of The World.

I Cannot Sleep Unless I Am Surrounded By Books.

Best Thing To Happen For A Poet. A Fine Death, No? An Impressive Death.

We Have Stopped Believing In Progress. What Progress That Is !