High Art Alone Is Eternal And The

Once [a Cat] Has Given Its Love, What Absolute Confidence, What Fidelity Of Affection!

You Do Not Become A Critic Until It Has Been Completely Established To Your Own Satisfaction That You Cannot Be A Poet.

I Am A Man For Whom The Outside World Exists.

The Years I Have Squandered In Puerile Excitement, In Going Hither And Thither, In Seeking To Force Nature And Time, I Ought To Have Spent In Solitude And Meditation, In Endeavoring To Make Myself Worthy Of Being Loved.

It Is Difficult To Obtain The Friendship Of A Cat.