Charles Baudelaire. Paris spleen (№ 419497)

What a great pleasure - to immerse your eyes into the vast expanse of the sky and the sea! Loneliness, silence, incomparable clarity of azure! A small sail, trembling on the horizon, in its tinyness and lostness similar to my irreparable existence, the monotonous melody of the surf - I think about all these things, or they think by me (for in the vast space of dreams "I" is lost instantly); they think, I say, but these thoughts sound like music and are colored with bright colors, free from verbal intricacies, syllogisms and inferences.