The Tongue May Hide The Truth But

What's The Use Of Dying In A Ward Surrounded By A Lot Of Groaning And Croaking Incurables? Wouldn't It Be Much Better To Throw A Party With That Twenty-seven Thousand And Take Poison And Depart For The Other World To The Sound Of Violins, Surrounded By Lovely Drunken Girls And Happy Friends?

Manuscripts Don't Burn.

Punch A Man On The Nose, Kick An Old Man Downstairs, Shoot Somebody Or Any Old Thing Like That, That’s My Job. But Argue With Women In Love—no Thank You!

There Is No Greater Misfortune In The World Than The Loss Of Reason.

Literature Has Become My Life.