As Far As I Am Concerned I

One Approaches The Journey's End. But The End Is A Goal, Not A Catastrophe.

Genius, Whether Locked Up In A Cell Or Roaming At Large, Is Always Solitary.

I Regard As A Mortal Sin Not Only The Lying Of The Senses In Matters Of Love, But Also The Illusion Which The Senses Seek To Create Where Love Is Only Partial. I Say, I Believe, That One Must Love With All Of One's Being, Or Else Live, Come What May, A Life Of Complete Chastity.

Vanity Is The Quicksand Of Reason.

The Publication Of A Book Only Brings Very Paltry Results To Its Author.