O Heart! Love Is Thy Bane And

No One Makes A Revolution By Himself; And There Are Some Revolutions Which Humanity Accomplishes Without Quite Knowing How, Because It Is Everybody Who Takes Them In Hand.

We Do Not Precisely Enjoy Liberty At The Figaro. M. De Latouche, Our Worthy Director (ah! You Should Know The Fellow), Is Always Hanging Over Us, Cutting, Pruning, Right Or Wrong, Imposing Upon Us His Whims, His Aberrations, His Fancies, And We Have To Write As He Bids.

I Have An Object, A Task, Let Me Say The Word, A Passion. The Profession Of Writing Is A Violent And Almost Indestructible One.

Lying, Like License, Has Its Degrees.

Art Speaks Only To The Mind, Whereas Nature Speaks To All The Faculties.