To Forget Is The Great Secret Of

Love Based Upon Money And Vanity Forms The Most Stubborn Of Passions.

Hatred Like Love Feeds On The Merest Trifles. Everything Adds To It. Just As The Being We Love Can Do No Wrong, So The One We Hate Can Do No Right.

Hatred Is The Vice Of Narrow Souls; They Feed It With All Their Littleness, And Make It The Pretext Of Base Tyrannies.

Love May Be Or It May Not, But Where It Is, It Ought To Reveal Itself In Its Immensity.

To Stroll Is A Science, It Is The Gastronomy Of The Eye. To Walk Is To Vegetate, To Stroll Is To Live.... To Stroll Is To Enjoy, It Is To Assume A Mind-set, It Is To Admire The Sublime Pictures Of Unhappiness, Of Love, Of Joy, Of Graceful Or Grotesque Portraits; It Is To Plunge One's Vision To The Depths Of A Thousand Existences: Young, It Is To Desire Everything; Old, It Is To Live The Life Of The Young, To Marry Their Passions.