It gives me a melancholy happiness to live in the midst of this confusion of friends
Of wanton voices
This enjoyment, impatience and desire
How much thirsty drunkenness of life comes to light here every moment!

Because, it will soon be so still for all these shouting, lively, lovely people
How everyone's shadow, his gloomy traveling companion stands behind him
It is always the last moment before the departure
You and I have more than ever to say to one another, the hour presses, the ocean with its lonely silence waits impatient & greedy behind us, completely certain of its prey!

The past is a small matter, the near future is everything
Hence this haste
This craving
This fevered overreaching
Everyone wants to be forever
Yet death is the only things certain and common to our futures
How strange that this sole thing that is certain and common to all, commands no attention?
Should we not regard ourselves as the brotherhood of death?

It makes me lonely to realize that we do not want to think at all of the idea of death
I would like life to be us, to be more than we are, in deference to that sublime inevitability.