A subtlety in hand, he moved over the landscape like a passing cloud; consuming the earth below with shade. In a vexatious tone and with a spasm of romantic allusion, he sat by the water completely transfixed: is my psyche, in despondent rain, a response to every flight of fancy which passes through my mind? Is my body such a vessel, so that I am vulnerable to oughts and succumbing to the ills of the very underhanded nature — the devils that lull my spirit?
He wished to know things; he wished to know what could drive God insane, he wanted to invoke this in himself. There lies, in the deepest syncretises of opposing thought, a lust that befalls the undisciplined. I am to vanish into my own fallacies to emerge one day fit for suffering, thus, one day, I shall suffer no more.
