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Saw enough. The vision is to be found on every wind.

Had enough. Rumors of towns, at evening, and in daylight, and always.

Knew enough. Life's decisions.—O Rumors and Visions!

Departure in affection and noise anew.





One fair morning, amongst a very mild people, a superb man and woman shouted on the public square: "My friends, I would that she were queen!" "I would be queen!" She laughed and shook. He spoke to friends of revelation, of hardship ended. They swooned upon each other.

Indeed, they were kings all morning long, whilst carmine hangings went up on the houses, and all afternoon, whilst they moved forward from the palm gardens.




To a reason

One drumtap of your finger discharges all sound and commences the new harmony.

One step you take, it's the levying of new men and their forward march.

Your head turns away: the new love! Your head turns back: the new love!

"Change our fates, flitter the curses, to begin with the weather," these children sing at you. "Lift anywhere our fortunes' and our wishes' substance," they beg of you.

Come from forever, you will go everywhere.




Morning of drunkenness

O my Good! O my Beautiful! Atrocious fanfare in which I stumble not at all! Magic rack! Hurrah for the unheard-of work and for the marvelous body, for the first time! It began with the laughter of children, it will end with it. This poison will stay in all our veins even when, the fanfare turning, we are back in the old disharmony. O now, we so worthy of these tortures! collect fervently this body and soul: this promise, this dementia! Elegance, science, violence! We were promised to inter in darkness the tree of good and evil, to deport tyrannical honesties, so that we might bring forth our very pure love. It began with some disgust and it ends—not being able to grasp on the spot that eternity—it ends with a scattering of perfumes.

Laughter of children, discretion of slaves, austerity of virgins, horror of figures and objects here, consecrated be you by the memory of this vigil. It would begin with every boorishness, it ends with angels of flame and ice.

Little vigil of drunkenness, holy! if only for the mask with which you have favored us. We affirm you, method! We do not forget that you have glorified each of our ages. We have faith in the poison. We know how to give our whole life every day.

This is the time of the Assassins.