Though The Favourites Of The

Has Anyone...any Distinct Notion Of What Poets Of A Stronger Age Understood By The Word Inspiration? ... There Is An Ecstasy Such That The Immese Strain Of It Is Sometimes Relaxed By A Flood Of Tears, Along With Which One's Steps Either Rush Or Involuntarily Lag, Alternately. There Is The Feeling That One Is Completely Out Of Hand, With The Very Distinct Consciousness Of An Endless Number Of Fine Thrills And Quiverings To The Very Toes... Everything Happens Quite Involuntarily, As If In A Tempestuous Outburst Of Freedom, Of Absoluteness, Of Power And Divinity.

Some People Throw A Bit Of Their Personality After Their Bad Arguments, As If That Might Straighten Their Paths And Turn Them Into Right And Good Arguments-just As A Man In A Bowling Alley, After He Has Let Go Of The Ball, Still Tries To Direct It With Gestures.

Pitch-black Winter Nights Live In My Bones.

Curiosity Creeps Into The Houses Of The Unfortunate And The Needy Under The Name Of Duty Or Of Pity.

When We Cannot Stand Certain People, We Try To Have Suspicions About Them.