It Is Bad Enough To Know The

I'd Sooner Be Smashed Into A Mangled Pulp By A Bus When We Cross The Street Than Look Forward To A Life Like Yours.

A Man Ought To Work. That's What He's Here For. That's How He Contributes To The Welfare Of The Community.

Just As The Painter Thinks With His Brush And Paints The Novelist Thinks With His Story.

The Artist Produces For The Liberation Of His Soul.

Because Women Can Do Nothing Except Love, They've Given It A Ridiculous Importance. They Want To Persuade Us That It's The Whole Of Life. It's An Insignificant Part.