No Man Can Think Clearly When His

A Man Reserves His True And Deepest Love Not For The Species Of Woman In Whose Company He Finds Himself Electrified And Enkindled, But For That One In Whose Company He May Feel Tenderly Drowsy.

Love Is An Emotion Experienced By The Many And Enjoyed By The Few.

A Poet, Any Real Poet, Is Simply An Alchemist Who Transmutes His Cynicism Regarding Human Beings Into An Optimism Regarding The Moon, The Stars, The Heavens, And The Flowers, To Say Nothing Of Spring, Love, And Dogs.

The Russian Dramatist Is One Who, Walking Through A Cemetery, Does Not See The Flowers On The Graves. The American Dramatist . . . Does Not See The Graves Under The Flowers.

Impersonal Criticism?is Like An Impersonal Fist Fight Or An Impersonal Marriage, And As Successful.