At The Heart Of All Beauty Lies

If Pimps And Thieves Everywhere Were Always Punished, Honest People Would All Believe Themselves Always To Be Innocent.

As Soon As One Does Not Kill Oneself, One Must Keep Silent About Life.

If The World Were Clear, Art Would Not Exist.

Maybe She Had Become Tired Of Being The Girlfriend Of A Condemned Man. It Also Occured To Me That Maybe She Was Sick, Or Dead. These Things Happen. [...] Anyway, After That, Remembering Marie Meant Nothing To Me. That Seemed Perfectly Normal To Me, Since I Understood Very Well That People Would Forget Me When I Was Dead.

But What Is Happiness Except The Simple Harmony Between A Man And The Life He Leads?