France Is Great Because She Is France.

...there Is A Point When The Unfortunate And The Infamous Are Associated And Confused In A Word, A Mortal Word, Les Miserables

At The Moment When Her Eyes Closed, When All Feeling Vanished In Her, She Thought That She Felt A Touch Of Fire Imprinted On Her Lips, A Kiss More Burning Than The Red-hot Iron Of The Executioner.

Genius Is Rare Because The Means Of Becoming One Have Not Been Available

These Are True Felicities. No Joy Beyond These Joys. Love Is The Only Ecstasy, Everything Else Weeps

In Shakespeare The Birds Sing, The Bushes Are Clothed With Green, Hearts Love, Souls Suffer, The Cloud Wanders, It Is Hot, It Is Cold, Night Falls, Time Passes, Forests And Multitudes Speak, The Vast Eternal Dream Hovers Over All. Sap And Blood, All Forms Of The Multiple Reality, Actions And Ideas, Man And Humanity, The Living And The Life, Solitudes, Cities, Religions, Diamonds And Pearls, Dung-hills And Charnelhouses, The Ebb And Flow Of Beings, The Steps Of Comers And Goers, All, All Are On Shakespeare And In Shakespeare.