because otherwise we are not poets: unholy demagogues without disciples, deceiver, devil, anti-people. There are those natures who set out from the death chamber of a sad and indescribable inadequacy to understand her fear ... The inner wutschäumende sea can not and will not otherwise, followed by eternal necessity of the painful path of the separated and lonely burlesque of art. What a pleasure!
And since I now know how it behaves - with 25, as a people of my state of highest Anstänigkeit is her usual - I'm mocking smile-enabled, with full powers the art equipped all hardships and bitterness, fear, and audacious idea to ban the one hand and serious comedy to tug pilot light to do, and redeem.
The artist is the ultimate consequence of life, perhaps even in humans.
MA
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