I don't know what I feel or what I want to feel. I don't know what to think or what I am.
I feel as if I'm always on the verge of waking up.
The chill of what I won't feel gnaws at my present heart.
Art consists in making others feel what we feel.
And, like the great damned souls, I shall always feel that thinking is worth more than living.
The poet is a pretender. / He pretends so completely, / that he even pretends that it is pain / the pain he really feels.