I Cling To My Imperfection, As The

Ignorance And Error Are Necessary To Life, Like Bread And Water.

Yet, Every Now And Then, There Would Pass A Young Girl, Slender, Fair And Desirable, Arousing In Young Men A Not Ignoble Desire To Possess Her, And Stirring In Old Men Regrets For Ecstasy Not Seized And Now Forever Past.

In Art As In Love, Instinct Is Enough.

Lovers Who Love Truly Do Not Write Down Their Happiness.

The Mania Of Thinking Renders One Unfit For Every Activity.