The Evening Of A Well

You Arrive At Truth Through Poetry; I Arrive At Poetry Through Truth.

The Dregs May Stir Themselves As They Please; They Fall Back To The Bottom By Their Own Coarseness.

Remorse Is The Punishment Of Crime; Repentance, Its Expiation. The Former Appertains To A Tormented Conscience; The Latter To A Soul Changed For The Better.

Abuse Of Words Is The Foundation Of Ideology.

It Is Easier To Be Mistaken About The True Than The Beautiful.