It Is Necessary To Sleep Upon The

The Heart, Like The Stomach, Wants A Varied Diet.

One Mustn't Always Believe That Feeling Is Everything. In The Arts, It Is Nothing Without Form.

We Swung Between Madness And Suicide ... It Was Beautiful!

I Took Eugene Sue's Arthur From The Reading-room. It's Indescribable, Enough To Make You Vomit. You Have To Read This To Realize The Pitifulness Of Money, Success, And The Public. Literature Has Become Consumptive. It Spits And Slobbers, Covers Its Blisters With Salve And Sticking-plaster, And Has Grown Bald From Too Much Hair-slicking. It Would Take Christ Of Art To Cure This Leper.

On Spinach: I Dislike It, And Am Happy To Dislike It Because If I Liked It I Would Eat It, And I Cannot Stand It.