The Single Most Powerful Tool For Winning

A Critic In My House Sees Some Paintings. Greatly Perturbed, He Asks For My Drawings. My Drawings? Never! They Are My Letters, My Secrets.

How Do You See Those Tree?... They Are Yellow. Well Then Put Down Yellow. And That Shadow Is Rather Blue. So Render It With Pure Ultramarine. Those Red Leaves? Use Vermillion.

Oh Mysterious World... I Have Become Better For Having Understood And Having Loved Thy Human Soul - A Flower Which Has Ceased To Bloom And Whose Fragrance No One Henceforth Will Breathe.

Night Is Here. All Is At Rest. My Eyes Close In Order To See Without Actually Understanding The Dream That Flees Before Men Infinite Space; And I Experience The Languorous Sensation Produced By The Mournful Procession Of My Hopes.

I Made A Promise To Keep A Watch Over Myself, To Remain Master Of Myself, So That I Might Become A Sure Observer.