Dreams are the Stuff of Stars

6 notes

Who’s to blame for the life that tragedies claim? No matter what you say it won’t take away the pain that I feel inside I’m tired of all the lies don’t nobody know why it’s the blind leadin’ the blind?Guess that’s the way that the story goes. Will it ever make sense? Somebody’s gotta know. There’s gotta be more to life than this. There’s got to be more to everythin’ I thought exists.

12 notes

A poet makes himself a visionary through a long, boundless, and systematized disorganization of all the senses. All forms of love, of suffering, of madness; he searches himself, he exhausts within himself all poisons, and preserves their quintessences. Unspeakable torment, where he will need the greatest faith, a superhuman strength, where he becomes all men the great invalid, the great criminal, the great accursed—and the Supreme Scientist! For he attains the unknown! Because he has cultivated his soul, already rich, more than anyone! He attains the unknown, and if, demented, he finally loses the understanding of his visions, he will at least have seen them! So what if he is destroyed in his ecstatic flight through things unheard of, unnameable: other horrible workers will come; they will begin at the horizons where the first one has fallen!