But What Does It Mean, The Plague?

We All Have A Weakness For Beauty.

That's The Way Man Is, Cher Monsieur. He Has Two Faces: He Can't Love Without Self-love.

On Certain Mornings, As We Turn A Corner, An Exquisite Dew Falls On Our Heart And Then Vanishes. But The Freshness Lingers, And This, Always, Is What The Heart Needs. The Earth Must Have Risen In Just Such A Light The Morning The World Was Born.

There Is But One Truly Serious Philosophical Problem And That Is Suicide.

Somebody Has To Have The Last Word. If Not, Every Argument Could Be Opposed By Another And We'd Never Be Done With It.