Death Is Beautiful. It Alone Gives Love

In Your Efforts To Dazzle Us Your Reasoning Has Gone Awry. You Know Very Well That Love Is, Above All, The Gift Of Oneself.

The Object Of Art Is To Give Life Shape.

Men Create Real Miracles When They Use Their God-given Courage And Intelligence.

One Cannot Weep For The Entire World, It Is Beyond Human Strength. One Must Choose.

It Is Restful, Tragedy, Because One Knows That There Is No More Lousy Hope Left. You Know You're Caught, Caught At Last Like A Rat With All The World On Its Back. And The Only Thing Left To Do Is Shout - Not Moan, Or Complain, But Yell Out At The Top Of Your Voice Whatever It Was You Had To Say. What You've Never Said Before. What Perhaps You Don't Even Know Till Now.