I am tired, beloved, of chafing my heart against the want of you; of squeezing it into little inkdrops, and posting it. And I scald alone, here, under the fire of the great moon. You are ice and fire the touch of you burns my hands like snow. Moon! Moon! I am prone before you. Pity me,and drench me in loneliness. Sexual love is the most stupendous fact of the universe, and the most magical mystery our poor blind senses know. Let us be of cheer, remembering that the misfortunes hardest to bear are those which never come. All books are either dreams or swords,You can cut, or you can drug, with words. Take everything easy and quit dreaming and brooding and you will be well guarded from a thousand evils. In science, read by preference the newest works. In literature, read the oldest. The classics are always modern. Art is the desire of a man to express himself, to record the reactions of his personality to the world he lives in. Even Pain pricks to livelier living. | 
