I Can't Help It, The Idea Of

Repartee Is Altogether A Natural Endowment, And Is The Lightning Of The Mind.

The Blood Of My Motherland Waters A Magic Plant That Cures All Ills. That Plant Is Art, And Sometimes Art Needs Corruption As A Kind Of Fertilizer

I Could Not Clearly Distinguish What Was Passing In My Head; It Seemed To Me That I Was Under The Influence Of A Horrible Dream And That I Had But To Awake To Find Myself Cured; At Times It Seemed That My Entire Life Had Been A Dream, Ridiculous And Childish, The Falseness Of Which Had Just Been Disclosed.

What A Frightful Weapon Is Human Thought! It Is Our Defense And Our Safeguard, The Most Precious Gift That God Has Made Us. It Is Ours And It Obeys Us; We May Launch It Forth Into Space, But, Once Outside Of Our Feeble Brains, It Is Gone; We Can No Longer Control It.

What I Need Is A Woman Who Is Something, Anything: Either Very Beautiful Or Very Kind Or In The Last Resort Very Wicked; Very Witty Or Very Stupid, But Something.