In Circumstances Of Real Tragedy You See

The Poetry Of Heroism Appeals Irresistibly To Those Who Don't Go To A War, And Even More To Those Whom The War Is Making Enormously Wealthy. It's Always So.

A God Who Counts Minutes And Pennies, A Desperate Sensual God, Who Grunts Like A Pig. A Pig With Golden Wings, Who Falls And Falls, Always Belly Side Up, Ready For Caresses, That’s Him, Our Master. Come, Kiss Me.

To Travel Is Very Useful, It Makes The Imagination Work, The Rest Is Just Delusion And Pain. Our Journey Is Entirely Imaginary, Which Is Its Strength.

Only A Complete Alcoholic Can Think Life Is Funny ... Any Life!.

All That Makes A Lunatic Are The Very Ordinary Ideas Of Mankind Shut Up Inside A Man's Head.