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Deep in his heart, the poet is always surprised at where his poem has gone. 39

Deep in his heart, the poet is always surprised at where his poem has gone. 39

236 He found solitude so unbearable that he did not even allow his thoughts to ripen in his own head; as soon as he had so much as half a thought, he hastened to share it
326 Good nature is a dubious asset for an artist; it enriches his imagination but wrecks his routine
314 Mankind, as such, does not exist. There are only fatherlands, everyone's fatherland alien to everyone else's