The Richest Love Is That Which Submits

Music Is Only Love Looking For Words.

An Idea Is Like A Rare Bird Which Cannot Be Seen. What One Sees Is The Trembling Of The Branch It Has Just Left.

Art—the Meaning Of The Pattern Of Our Common Actions In Reality. The Cloth-of-gold That Hides Behind The Sackcloth Of Reality, Forced Out By The Pain Of Human Memory.

Our Inventions Mirror Our Secret Wishes.

All Culture Corrupts, But French Culture Corrupts Absolutely.