Ever To Confess You're Bored

That Is Our ‘pointed Task. Love & Die.

I Conclude Now I Have No Inner Resources, Because I Am Heavy Bored. Peoples Bore Me, Literature Bores Me, Especially Great Literature.

We Are Using Our Own Skins For Wallpaper And We Cannot Win.

I Do Strongly Feel That Among The Greatest Pieces Of Luck For High Achievement Is Ordeal. Certain Great Artists Can Make Out Without It, Titian And Others, But Mostly You Need Ordeal. My Idea Is This: The Artist Is Extremely Lucky Who Is Presented With The Worst Possible Ordeal Which Will Not Actually Kill Him. At That Point, He's In Business: Beethoven's Deafness, Goya's Deafness, Milton's Blindness, That Kind Of Thing.

I Cry. Evil Dissolves, & Love, Like Foam; That Love. Prattle Of Children Powers Me Home, My Heart Claps Like The Swan's Under A Frenzy Of Who Love Me & Who Shine.