Whose Hearts Must I Break?

I Saw That All Beings Are Fated To Happiness: Action Is Not Life, But A Way Of Wasting Some Force, An Enervation. Morality Is The Weakness Of The Brain.

I Found I Could Extinguish All Human Hope From My Soul.

The Poet Makes Himself A Seer Through A Long, Vast And Painstaking Derangement Of All The Senses

No One's Serious At Seventeen.

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