Since the printing press came into being, poetry has ceased to be the delight of the whole community of man; it has become the amusement and delight of the few. ↗
But I am a blasted tree; the bolt has entered my soul; and I felt then that I should survive to exhibit what I shall soon cease to be - a miserable spectacle of wrecked humanity, pitiable to others and intolerable to myself. ↗