We Must Travel In The Direction Of

I Conclude Now I Have No Inner Resources, Because I Am Heavy Bored. Peoples Bore Me, Literature Bores Me, Especially Great Literature.

This World Is Gradually Becoming A Place Where I Do Not Care To Be Any More.

I Cry. Evil Dissolves, & Love, Like Foam; That Love. Prattle Of Children Powers Me Home, My Heart Claps Like The Swan's Under A Frenzy Of Who Love Me & Who Shine.

Life, Friends, Is Boring. We Must Not Say So. After All, The Sky Flashes, The Great Sea Yearns, We Ourselves Flash And Yearn

One Must Be Ruthless With One's Own Writing Or Someone Else Will Be.