What A Fine Comedy This World Would

Gentleness And Peacefulness Regulate Our Proceedings; Theirs Are Dictated By Fury. We Employ Reason, They Accumulate Faggots. They Preach Nothing But Love, And Breathe Nothing But Blood. Their Words Are Humane, But Their Hearts Are Cruel.

Does Not Vanity Itself Cease To Be Blamable, Is It Not Even Ennobled, When It Is Directed To Laudable Objects, When It Confines Itself To Prompting Us To Great And Generous Actions?

People Praise Virtue, But They Hate It, They Run Away From It. It Freezes You To Death, And In This World You've Got To Keep Your Feet Warm.

You Can Be Sure That A Painter Reveals Himself In His Work As Much As And More Than A Writer Does In His.

Une Danse Est Un Poe' Me. A Dance Is A Poem.