Death Is Beautiful. It Alone Gives Love

Our Entire Life, With Our Fine Moral Code And Our Precious Freedom, Consists Ultimately In Accepting Ourselves As We Are.

Beauty, Real Beauty, Is Something Very Grave. If There Is A God, He Must Be Partly That.

Beauty, Real Beauty, Is Something Very Grave. If There Is A God, He Must Be Partly That.

Some Men Like To Make A Little Garden Out Of Life And Walk Down A Path

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.