I'm Beginning To Believe That There Are

The Artist Vocation Is To Send Light Into The Human Heart.

Fame And Admiration Weigh Not A Feather In The Scale Against Friendship And Love, For The Heart Languishes All The Same.

... Love Is Too Delicate A Flower To Rise Again When One Has Trampled It Under Foot.

I Love Everything That Makes Up A Milieu, The Rolling Of The Carriages And The Noise Of The Workmen In Paris, The Cries Of A Thousand Birds In The Country, The Movement Of The Ships On The Waters. I Love Also Absolute, Profound Silence, And, In Short, I Love Everything That Is Around Me, No Matter Where I Am.

When Mental Sickness Increases Until It Reaches The Danger Point, Do Not Exhaust Yourself By Efforts To Trace Back To Original Causes. Better Accept Them As Inevitable And Save Your Strength To Fight Against The Effects.