Idle youth, enslaved to everything; by being too sensitive I have wasted my life.

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À l'aurore, armés d'une ardente patience, nous entrerons aux splendides Villes. (In the dawn, armed with a burning patience, we shall enter the splendid Cities.)

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But, truly, I have wept too much! The Dawns are heartbreaking. Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter.

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I believe I am in Hell, therefore I am.

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By being too sensitive I have wasted my life.

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Je est un autre.

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I'm intact, and I don't give a damn.

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I understand, and not knowing how to express myself without pagan words, I’d rather remain silent

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I is another.

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In the morning I had a look so lost, a face so dead, that perhaps those whom I met did not see me.

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