To Think Is To Be Sick.

The Very Condition Of Woman Is So Subject To Hazard, So Complex, And So Grievous, That To Place Her At One Moment Is But To Displace Her At The Next.

Love Is The First Lie; Wisdom The Last.

Well, Isn't Bohemia A Place Where Everyone Is As Good As Everyone Else - And Must Not A Waiter Be A Little Less Than A Waiter To Be A Good Bohemian?

Destiny And History Are Untidy.

I Can Draw And Write, And You'd Be Foolish Not To Hire Me.