To Read A Poem In January Is

A Kiss Without A Moustache, They Said Then, Is Like An Egg Without Salt; I Will Add To It: And It Is Like Good Without Evil.

All Human Actions Are Equivalent... And All Are On Principle Doomed To Failure.

Good Digestions, The Gray Monotony Of Provincial Life, And The Boredom-ah The Soul-destroying Boredom-of Long Days Of Mild Content.

One Should Commit No Stupidity Twice, The Variety Of Choice Is, In The End, Large Enough.

How Can I, Who Was Not Able To Retain My Own Past, Hope To Save That Of Another?