My Curiosity Sister Of Larks.

I Have At This Moment So Many Fundamental Thoughts, So Many Truly Metaphysical Things To Say, That I Suddenly Get Tired And Decide Not To Write Any More, Not To Think Any More, But To Allow The Fever Of Speaking To Make Me Sleepy, And With My Eyes Closed, Like A Cat, I Play With Everything I Could Have Said.

Without Madness What Is Man But A Wholesome Beast, Postponed Corpse That Begets?

For Who Expects Nothing, All That Comes Is Grateful

Yes, Talking To People Makes Me Sleepy.

I Want To Be A Work Of Art, At Least In My Soul, Since I Can’t Be One In My Body.