Spoilt Pleasure Is A Sad, Unseemly Thing;

Young Girls Like The Excess Of Any Quality. Without Knowing, They Want To Suffer, To Suffer They Must Exaggerate; They Like To Have Loud Chords Struck On Them.

The Writer, Unlike His Non-writing Adult Friend, Has No Predisposed Outlook; He Seldom Observes Deliberately. He Sees What He Didnot Intend To See; He Remembers What Does Not Seem Wholly Possible. Inattentive Learner In The Schoolroom Of Life, He Keeps Some Faculty Free To Veer And Wander. His Is The Roving Eye.

Education Is Not So Important As People Think.

There's Something So Showy About Desperation, It Takes Hard Wits To See It's A Grandiose Form Of Funk.

Proust Has Pointed Out That The Predisposition To Love Creates Its Own Objects; Is This Not Also True Of Fear?