Our Dreams Are A Second Life.

Our Dreams Are A Second Life. I Have Never Been Able To Penetrate Without A Shudder Those Ivory Or Horned Gates Which Separate Us From The Invisible World.

Our Dreams Are A Second Life.

How Have I Been Able To Live So Long Outside Nature Without Identifying Myself With It? Everything Lives, Moves, Everything Corresponds; The Magnetic Rays, Emanating Either From Myself Or From Others, Cross The Limitless Chain Of Created Things Unimpeded; It Is A Transparent Network That Covers The World, And Its Slender Threads Communicate Themselves By Degrees To The Planets And Stars. Captive Now Upon Earth, I Commune With The Chorus Of The Stars Who Share In My Joys And Sorrows.

The Only Refuge Left To Us Was The Poet's Ivory Tower, Which We Climbed, Ever Higher, To Isolate Ourselves From The Mob.

The Intoxication Of The Faro Drinker Only Shows Itself At First By An Increase In Noise Which Is Only Deafening, And Finally By A Silent Deterioration Of The Mind.