What A Torment It Is To See

Is This The Destiny Of Man? Is He Only Happy Before He Has Acquired His Reason Or After He Has Lost It?

All Lyrical Work Must, As A Whole, Be Perfectly Intelligible, But In Some Particulars A Little Unintelligible.

Nature! We Live In Her Midst And Know Her Not. She Is Incessantly Speaking To Us, But Betrays Not Her Secret. We Constantly Act Upon Her, And Yet Have No Power Over Her. Variant: Nature! We Are Surrounded And Embraced By Her: Powerless To Separate Ourselves From Her, And Powerless To Penetrate Beyond Her.

The Greatest Act Of Faith Takes Place When A Man Finally Decides That He Is Not God.

Poetry Is The Universal Possession Of Mankind, Revealing Itself Everywhere, And At All Times, In Hundreds And Hundreds Of Men.