What Wretched Poverty Of Language! To Compare

By Working One Can Bend Fortune. She Is Fond Of Crafty Men.

It Is Always Sad To Leave A Place To Which One Knows One Will Never Return. Such Are The Melancolies Du Voyage: Perhaps They Are One Of The Most Rewarding Things About Traveling.

She Loved The Sea For Its Storms Alone, Cared For Vegetation Only When It Grew Here And There Among Ruins. She Had To Extract A Kind Of Personal Advantage From Things And She Rejected As Useless Everything That Promised No Immediate Gratification — For Her Temperament Was More Sentimental Than Artistic, And What She Was Looking For Was Emotions, Not Scenery.

The Faster The Word Sticks To The Thought, The More Beautiful Is The Effect.

A Superhuman Will Is Needed In Order To Write, And I Am Only A Man.