What Is Beautiful Is Moral, That Is

I Am Alone On This Road Strewn With Bones And Bordered By Ruins! Angels Have Their Brothers, And Demons Have Their Infernal Companions. Yet I Have But The Sound Of My Scythe When It Harvests, My Whistling Arrows, My Galloping Horse. Always The Sound Of The Same Wave Eating Away At The World

There Are Neither Good Nor Bad Subjects. From The Point Of View Of Pure Art, You Could Almost Establish It As An Axiom That The Subject Is Irrelevant, Style Itself Being An Absolute Manner Of Seeing Things.

Farming -- A Vocation Accursed Of Heaven, Since One Never Saw A Millionaire Involved In It.

He Dreamed Of Funeral Love, But Dreams Crumble And The Tomb Abides

The Most Important Thing In The World Is To Hold Your Soul Aloft.