Nothing Is Proved, All Is Permitted.

Life Is Made For The Strong. There Is No Mercy In It For The Weak– None...such Is The Tragedy Of Desire.

Art Is The Stored Honey Of The Human Soul, Gathered On Wings Of Misery And Travail.

I Believe In The Compelling Power Of Love.

We Who Feel That Justice Is Not Being Done Have But One Thing To Do: That Is Fight, By Argument, By Example, By Insistence On Fair Play Wherever We Have The Power To Do So. The Rest Is In The Hands Of The Lord, Or Nature, Which Swings, Apparently, From One Extreme To Another.

To The Untraveled, Territory Other Than Their Own Familiar Heath Is Invariably Fascinating. Next To Love It Is The One Thing That Solaces And Delights.