Always Be A Poet, Even In Prose.

I Am Bored In France Because Everyone Resembles Voltaire.

If The Word Doesn't Exist, Invent It; But First Be Sure It Doesn't Exist.

He Possessed The Logic Of All Good Intentions And A Knowledge Of All The Tricks Of His Trade, And Yet He Never Succeeded At Anything, Because He Believed Too Much In The Impossible. Surprising? Why So? He Was Forever In The Act Of Conceiving It!

Nothing Is As Tedious As The Limping Days, When Snowdrifts Yearly Cover All The Ways, And Ennui, Sour Fruit Of Incurious Gloom, Assumes Control Of Fate’s Immortal Loom

Music Fathoms The Sky.