My Life Was Lucky So That I

I Enjoyed My Own Nature To The Fullest, And We All Know There Lies Happiness, Although, To Soothe One Another Mutually, We Occasionally Pretend To Condemn Such Joys As Selfishness.

A Guilty Conscience Needs To Confess. A Work Of Art Is A Confession.

People Believe A Man Is In Distress Because His Loved One Dies In One Day. But His Real Pain Is Less Futile: It Is That He Finds Out That Sadness Too Does Not Last. Even Pain Has No Meaning.

Violence Is Both Unavoidable And Unjustifiable.

Nothing In The World Is Worth Turning One's Back On What One Loves.