Never Have I Thought That

Man Is Nothing Else But What He Makes Of Himself.

For Common Minds Have An Ugly Ability To Perceive In The Deepest And Richest Saying Nothing But Their Own Everyday Opinion.

I Will Take It All: Tongs, Molten Lead, Prongs, Garrotes, All That Burns, All That Tears, I Want To Truly Suffer. Better One Hundred Bites, Better The Whip, Vitriol, Than This Suffering In The Head, This Ghost Of Suffering Which Grazes And Caresses And Never Hurts Enough.

We Only Become What We Are By The Radical And Deep-seated Refusal Of That Which Others Have Made Of Us.

This Is The Basis For The Joy Of Love When There Is Joy; We Feel That Our Existence Is Justified.