Be Unswervingly And Eternally Loyal To The

But By The Time That I Had Nothing Left, I Myself Was The Lightest Thing Of All For Fate To Get Rid Of.

Through All The World There Goes One Long Cry From The Heart Of The Artist: Give Me A Chance To Do My Best.

One Does Not Travel By Plane. One Is Merely Sent, Like A Parcel.

Truth Is For Tailors And Shoemakers. I, On The Contrary, Have Always Held That The Lord Has A Penchant For Masquerades.

I Have Before Seen Other Countries, In The Same Manner, Give Themselves To You When You Are About To Leave Them.