Beauty Is Objectified Pleasure.

... So In Love The Heart Surrenders Itself Entirely To The One Being That Has Known How To Touch It. That Being Is Not Selected; It Is Recognised And Obeyed.

Tomes Of Aesthetic Criticism Hang On A Few Moments Of Real Delight And Intuition.

A Country Without A Memory Is A Country Of Madmen.

It Takes Patience To Appreciate Domestic Bliss; Volatile Spirits Prefer Unhappiness.

Memory... Is An Internal Rumor.