“Faith assuages, guides, restores.”

And from that time on I bathed in the Poem Of the Sea, star-infused and churned into milk, Devouring the green azures; where, entranced in pallid flotsam, A dreaming drowned man sometimes goes down.

What a life! True life is elsewhere. We are not in the world.

I understand, and not knowing how to express myself without pagan words, I’d rather remain silent.

Is it in these bottomless nights that you sleep in exile?

I shed more tears than God could ever have required.

I found I could extinguish all human hope from my soul.

The only unbearable thing is that nothing is unbearable.

As I descended into impassable rivers I no longer felt guided by the ferrymen.

I went out under the sky, Muse! and I was your vassal.

Whose hearts must I break? What lies must I maintain? – Through whose blood am I to wade ?

But the problem is to make the soul into a monster

I may die of earthly love, or of devotion.

Your memory and your senses will be nourishment for your creativity.

I am alone in possessing a key to this barbarous sideshow.

I believe that I am in hell, therefore I am there.

But, truly, I have wept too much! The Dawns are heartbreaking. Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter.