Reality Is A Prison, Where One Vegetates

No Matter How Much A Young Man Likes To Think For Himself, He Is Always Trying To Model Himself On Some Abstract Pattern Largely Derived From The Example Of The World Around Him. And A Man, No Matter How Conservative, Shows His Own Worth By His Personal Deviation From That Pattern.

Verrà La Morte E Avrà I Tuoi Occhi. (death Will Come And It Will Have Your Eyes.)

All Our "most Sacred Affections " Are Merely Prosaic Habit.

We Want Realism's Wealth Of Experience And Symbolism's Depth Of Feeling. All Art Is A Problem Of Balance Between Two Opposites.

Nowadays, Suicide Is Just A Way Of Disappearing. It Is Carried Out Timidly, Quietly, And Falls Flat. It Is No Longer An Action, Only A Submission.