The Smoke Of Glory Is Not Worth

The Capacity For Passion Is Both Cruel And Divine.

A Man Is Not A Wall, Whose Stones Are Crushed Upon The Road; Or A Pipe, Whose Fragments Are Thrown Away At A Street Corner. The Fragments Of An Intellect Are Always Good.

Simplicity, A Delicate Silence About Oneself, Increases Their Worth And Makes One Love Those Whom One Admires.

You, Stupid One, Who Believe In Laws Which Punish Murder By Murder...

...je N’ai Pas Cessé De L’être Si C’est D’être Jeune Que D’aimer Toujours !... L’humanité N’est Pas Un Vain Mot. Notre Vie Est Faite D’amour, Et Ne Plus Aimer C’est Ne Plus Vivre." (i Have Never Ceased To Be Young, If Being Young Is Always Loving... Humanity Is Not A Vain Word. Our Life Is Made Of Love, And To Love No Longer Is To Live No Longer.)