" Poor innocents! Hell has no power overpagans. − And still this is life! Later, the delights of damnation will be all the greater. A crime, quick, so I can fall into nothingness, condemned by human laws. Shut up, will you shut up! . . . Shame and Reproach are here: Satan says the fire is contemptible, my angerridiculous. − Enough! . . . Errors are whispered on their breath, spells, sickly perfumes, insipid music. − And to think that I hold truth in my hands, that I see justice: my judgement is sound and certain, I am ready forperfection . . . Pride. − The skin of my scalp is dry. Have pity! Lord, I am afraid. I am thirsty, so thirsty! Oh! childhood, the smell of grass, the sound of rain, water from the lake lapping on pebbles, the moonlight when theclock strikes twelve . . . that’s when the devil is in thetower. Mary! Holy Virgin! . . . − The horror of my stupidity. Aren’t there any honest souls who wish me well down there? . . . "

― Arthur Rimbaud , A Season in Hell