I am a student of life, and don't want to miss any experience. There's poetry in this sort of thing, you know--or perhaps you don't know, but it's all the same.

In search of Truth the hopeful zealot goes,But all the sadder tums, the more he knows!

Alas for him who chafes at soothing ease,And cries for fever'd joys and pains to please:They please a moment, but the pleasure flies,And the rack'd soul, a prey to passion, dies.

So stay, belov'd Content! nor let my soulIn fretful passion seek a farther goal.Apollo, chasing Daphne, gain'd his prize,But lo! she turn'd to wood before his eyes!Our earthly prizes, though as holy sought,Prove just as fleeting, and decay to naught.Enduring bliss a man may only findIn virtuous living, and contented mind.

I saw the body spread on that dank stone,And knew those things which feasted were not men;I knew this strange, grey world was not my own,But Yuggoth, past the starry voids—and thenThe body shrieked at me with a dead cry,And all too late I knew that it was I!