... All Ugliness Passes, And Beauty Endures,

The Child And The Great Artist -- These Alone Receive The Sensation Fresh As It Was At The Beginning Of The World.

Another Little Drink Wouldn't Do Us Any Harm.

The Great Sins And Fires Break Out Of Me Like The Terrible Leaves From The Bough In The Violent Spring. I Am A Walking Fire, I Am All Leaves.

Rhythm Is One Of The Principal Translators Between Dream And Reality.

I Wouldn't Dream Of Following A Fashion... How Could One Be A Different Person Every Three Months?