Physician of the Iron Age, Goethe has done his pilgrimage. He took the suffering human race, He read each wound, each weakness clear - And struck his finger on the place, And said - Thou ailest here, and here.

Goethe in Weimar sleeps, and Greece, Long since, saw Byron's struggle cease.

Wordsworth has gone from us - and ye, Ah, may ye feel his voice as we! He too upon a wintry clime Had fallen - on this iron time Of doubts, disputes, distracti…

Yet they, believe me, who await No gifts from Chance, have conquer'd Fate.

We are as forlorn as children lost in the wood. When you stand in front of me an look at me, what do you know of the grief's that are in me and what do I know …

Listen. All great literature is about what a bummer it is to be a human being: Moby Dick, Huckleberry Finn, The Red Badge of Courage, the Iliad and the Odyssey…

If only we were wiser or better people perhaps the gods would explain the mad, unbearable things they do