Souls of those I have loved, souls of those I have sung, strengthen me, support me, rid me of lies and the corrupting vapours of the world; and you, O Lord God, grant me the grace to produce a few good verses, which shall prove to myself that I am not the lowest of men, that I am not inferior to those whom I despise.
— Charles Baudelaire
Temples are no longer known,
It is we who secretly save up
These extravagances of the heart.
— Rilke
