I May Die Of Earthly Love, Or

I Went Out Under The Sky, Muse! And I Was Your Vassal.

And I Am Still Alive-what Though, My Damnation Is Eternal. A Man Who Deliberately Mutilates Himself Is Truly Damned, Is He Not? I Believe That I Am In Hell, Therefore I Am.

True Alchemy Lies In This Formula: ‘your Memory And Your Senses Are But The Nourishment Of Your Creative Impulse’.

Genius Is The Recovery Of Childhood At Will.

The Poet Makes Himself A Seer Through A Long, Vast And Painstaking Derangement Of All The Senses