1) Is there another Shakespeare waiting to be discovered? Some Emily Dickinson-style bard with a hence-to unrecognized bureau drawer full of genius?
2) I now find Eluard decadently introspective, brooding, and pretentious. The emperor has no clothes.
3) I'm having a hard time striking a balance between taking myself too seriously and sinking into flippant silliness. The age old Mahler vs. Poulenc?