The Appeal Of The Spectrally

I Am Perfectly Confident That I Could Never Adequately Convey To Any Other Human Being The Precise Reasons Why I Continue To Refrain From Suicide - The Reasons, That Is, Why I Still Find Existence Enough Of A Compensation To Atone For Its Dominantly Burthensome Quality.

Behold Great Whitman, Whose Licentious Line Delights The Rake, And Warms The Souls Of Swine; Whose Fever'd Fancy Shuns The Measur'd Pace, And Copies Ovid's Filth Without His Grace. In His Rough Brain A Genius Might Have Grown, Had He Not Sought To Play The Brute Alone; But Void Of Shame, He Let His Wit Run Wild, And Liv'd And Wrote As Adam's Bestial Child.

Man's Relations To Man Do Not Captivate My Fancy. It Is Man's Relation To The Cosmos--to The Unknown--which Alone Arouses In Me The Spark Of Creative Imagination.

All Great Humorists Are Sad... I Cannot Help Seeing Beyond The Tinsel Of Humour, And Recognising The Pitiful Basis Of Jest - The World Is Indeed Comic, But The Joke Is On Mankind.

Life Is A Hideous Thing.