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Stop wishing to merit anyone’s gratitude or thinking that anyone can become grateful.

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Godlike the man who sits at her side, who watches and catches that laughter which (softly) tears me to tatters: nothing is left of me, each time I see her.
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Stop wishing to merit anyone’s gratitude or thinking that anyone can become grateful.
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Gratitude Oneself Stop Thinking
I hate and love. And why, perhaps you’ll ask. I don’t know: but I feel, and I’m tormented.
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I hate and I love, and who can tell me why?
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I write of youth, of love, and have access by these to sing of cleanly wantonness.
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Away with you, water, destruction of wine!
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