His Head Is Made Of Stars, But

All The Things One Has Forgotten Scream For Help In Dreams.

Slumbering In Every Human Being Lies An Infinity Of Possibilities, Which One Must Not Arouse In Vain. For It Is Terrible When The Whole Man Resonates With Echoes And Echoes, None Becoming A Real Voice.

...how Could I, Fool That I Am, Go On Sitting In My Office, Or Here At Home, Instead Of Leaping Onto A Train With My Eyes Shut And Opening Them Only When I Am With You?

In Eternity Everything Is Just Beginning.

Success Is The Space One Occupies In The Newspaper. Success Is One Day's Insolence.