Nothing Can Be Done Except Little By

Alas, Human Vices, However Horrible One Might Imagine Them To Be, Contain The Proof (were It Only In Their Infinite Expansion) Of Man's Longing For The Infinite; But It Is A Longing That Often Takes The Wrong Route. It Is My Belief That The Reason Behind All Culpable Excesses Lies In This Depravation Of The Sense Of The Infinite.

It Would Perhaps Be Nice To Be Alternately The Victim And The Executioner.

With Wine, Poetry, Or Virtue As You Choose. But Get Drunk.

On The Vaporization And The Centralization Of The Self. All Is There.

It Is From The Womb Of Art That Criticism Was Born.