Tannhäuser monologue (Act 4) — Tannhäuser : $b A story of all time

O Lady pure, miracle of true love, I have a bitter word and harsh to say. This is my curse—no sooner do I speak, Or formulate my mind in iron words, That my mind grows, o’erleaps the limit set, And I perceive the truth that lies beyond— One further step into a new-fallen night. Hear then—I hate to hurt your perfect soul; I hate myself because I love you still In that strange intermediate consciousness, The reason and the mind! This middle way Ancients called safe—that damns it instantly! Without some danger nothing great is done! Let me be God! Or, failing of that task, Were it but by an unit, let me fall! And, falling, be it from so great a height That I may reach some uttermost Abyss, Inhabit it and reign, most evil one Of all the Horrors there—and in that path Seem, even deluded, to approach once more Infinity. For all the limitless Hath no distinction—evil is no more, And good no more.