Now I Am An Outcast.

The Sun, The Hearth Of Affection And Life, Pours Burning Love On The Delighted Earth.

I Shed More Tears Than God Could Ever Have Required.

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

Weakness Or Strength: You Exist, That Is Strength. You Don't Know Where You Are Going Or Why You Are Going, Go In Everywhere, Answer Everyone. No One Will Kill You, Any More Than If You Were A Corpse.

I'm Now Making Myself As Scummy As I Can. Why? I Want To Be A Poet, And I'm Working At Turning Myself Into A Seer. You Won't Understand Any Of This, And I'm Almost Incapable Of Explaining It To You. The Idea Is To Reach The Unknown By The Derangement Of All The Senses. It Involves Enormous Suffering, But One Must Be Strong And Be A Born Poet. It's Really Not My Fault.