The Aim Of Art Is Almost Divine:

If We Must Suffer, Let Us Suffer Nobly.

When A Man Is Out Of Sight, It Is Not Too Long Before He Is Out Of Mind.

Love Is Like A Tree: It Grows By Itself, Roots Itself Deeply In Our Being And Continues To Flourish Over A Heart In Ruin. The Inexplicable Fact Is That The Blinder It Is, The More Tenacious It Is. It Is Never Stronger Than When It Is Completely Unreasonable.

Freedom In Art, Freedom In Society, This Is The Double Goal Towards Which All Consistent And Logical Minds Must Strive.

A Translation In Verse . . . Seems To Me Something Absurd, Impossible.