One Must Laugh And Weep,

Poetry Is A Subject As Precise As Geometry.

Snicker On Hearing His Name: 'the Gentleman Who Thinks We Are Descended From The Apes.'

Once One Has Kissed A Cadaver's Forehead, There Always Remains Something Of It On The Lips, An Infinite Bitterness, An Aftertasteof Nothingness That Nothing Can Erase.

It Is An Excellent Habit To Look At Things As So Many Symbols.

I Go Dreaming Into The Future, Where I See Nothing, Nothing. I Have No Plans, No Idea, No Project, And, What Is Worse, No Ambition. Something – The Eternal ‘what’s The Use?’ – Sets Its Bronze Barrier Across Every Avenue That I Open Up In The Realm Of Hypothesis.