Behind all art is an element of desire…Love of life, of existence, love of another human being, love of human beings is in some way behind all art – even the most angry, even the darkest, even the most grief-stricken, and even the most embittered art has that element somewhere behind it. Because how could you be so despairing, so embittered, if you had not had something you loved that you lost?

I couldn’t tell fact from fiction
or if my dream was true,
The only sure prediction
in this whole word was you.
I’d touched your features inchly,
heard love and dared the cost.
The scented speil reeled me unreal
and found my senses lost.

from Senses of Insecurity

When they are young, they are feeble in body, and when they get older, they are foolish in mind; they are maintained in their youth in effortless comfort, but pass their old age in laborious squalor, disgraced by their past actions and burdened by their present ones, because in their youth they have run through all that was pleasant, and laid up for their old age what is hard to bear.