He Dreamed Of Funeral Love, But Dreams

But The Disparaging Of Those We Love Always Alienates Us From Them To Some Extent. We Must Not Touch Our Idols; The Gilt Comes Off In Our Hands.

Are The Days Of Winter Sunshine Just As Sad For You, Too? When It Is Misty, In The Evenings, And I Am Out Walking By Myself, It Seems To Me That The Rain Is Falling Through My Heart And Causing It To Crumble Into Ruins.

We Have All Been Beaten! Each One Has To Bear His Misfortune! Resign Yourself!

The Cult Of Art Gives Pride; One Never Has Too Much Of It.

It Seems To Me That I Have Always Existed And That I Possess Memories That Date Back To The Pharaohs.