The Trade Of Authorship Is A Violent,

The Cigar Is The Perfect Complement To An Elegant Lifestyle.

I Regard As A Mortal Sin Not Only The Lying Of The Senses In Matters Of Love, But Also The Illusion Which The Senses Seek To Create Where Love Is Only Partial. I Say, I Believe, That One Must Love With All Of One's Being, Or Else Live, Come What May, A Life Of Complete Chastity.

He Who Draws Noble Delights From Sentiments Of Poetry Is A True Poet, Though He Has Never Written A Line In All His Life.

We Do Not Precisely Enjoy Liberty At The Figaro. M. De Latouche, Our Worthy Director (ah! You Should Know The Fellow), Is Always Hanging Over Us, Cutting, Pruning, Right Or Wrong, Imposing Upon Us His Whims, His Aberrations, His Fancies, And We Have To Write As He Bids.

My Strength Has Not Equaled My Mad Ambition. I Have Remained Obscure; I Have Done Worse -- I Have Touched Success, And Allowed It To Escape Me.