I Drink To Make Other People Interesting.

Common Sense, In So Far As It Exists, Is All For The Bourgeoisie. Nonsense Is The Privilege Of The Aristocracy. The Worries Of The World Are For The Common People.

So Long As There Is One Pretty Girl Left On The Stage, The Professional Undertakers May Hold Up Their Burial Of The Theater.

All That Is Necessary To Raise Imbecility Into What The Mob Regards As Profundity Is To Lift It Off The Floor And Put It On A Platform.

A Man Reserves His True And Deepest Love Not For The Species Of Woman In Whose Company He Finds Himself Electrified And Enkindled, But For That One In Whose Company He May Feel Tenderly Drowsy.

What Passes For Woman's Intuition Is More Often Intrinsically Nothing More Than Man's Transparency.