He Always Smiles, Even When Contemplating Nothing

The Profession Of The Writer Has Its Thorns About Which The Reader Does Not Dream.

The Sky Is One Whole, The Water Another; And Between Those Two Infinities The Soul Of Man Is In Loneliness.

Evidently The Merit Depends On The Result Of The Work.

Life Deserves Laughter, Hence People Laugh At It.

Day Is Like Day As Two Beads In A Rosary, Unless Changes Of Weather Form The Only Variety.