Sometimes, Carrying On, Just Carrying On, Is

Beauty, No Doubt, Does Not Make Revolutions. But A Day Will Come When Revolutions Will Have Need Of Beauty.

She Was Waiting, But She Didn't Know For What. She Was Aware Only Of Her Solitude, And Of The Penetrating Cold, And Of A Greater Weight In The Region Of Her Heart.

The First Concern Of Any Dictatorship Is, Consequently, To Subjugate Both Labor And Culture.

There Is In Me An Anarchy And Frightful Disorder. Creating Makes Me Die A Thousand Deaths, Because It Means Making Order, And My Entire Being Rebels Against Order. But Without It I Would Die, Scattered To The Winds.

[love] Is The Type Of Disease That Spares Neither The Intelligent Nor The Idiotic.