Manuscripts Don't Burn.

How Sad, Ye Gods, How Sad The World Is At Evening, How Mysterious The Mists Over The Swamps! You Will Know It When You Have Wandered Astray In Those Mists, When You Have Suffered Greatly Before Dying, When You Have Walked Through The World Carrying An Unbearable Burden. You Know It Two When You Are Weary And Ready To Leave This Earth Without Regret; Its Mists; Its Swamps And Its Rivers; Ready To Give Yourself Into The Arms Of Death With A Light Heart, Knowing That Death Alone Can Comfort You.

For Some Reason, Cats Are Usually Addressed Familiarly, Though No Cat Has Ever Drunk Bruderschaft With Anyone.

Follow Me, Reader! Who Told You That There Is No True, Faithful, Eternal Love In This World! May The Liar's Vile Tongue Be Cut Out! Follow Me, My Reader, And Me Alone, And I Will Show You Such A Love!

This Twenty-year-old Boy Was Distinguished From Childhood By Strange Qualities, A Dreamer And An Eccentric. A Girl Fell In Love With Him, And He Went And Sold Her To A Brothel.

To Struggle Against Censorship, Whatever Its Nature, And Whatever The Power Under Which It Exists, Is My Duty As A Writer, As Are Calls For Freedom Of The Press. I Am A Passionate Supporter Of That Freedom, And I Consider That If Any Writer Were To Imagine That He Could Prove He Didn't Need That Freedom, Then He Would Be Like A Fish Affirming In Public That It Didn't Need Water.