Whatever Causes Night In Our Souls May

The Beautiful Has But One Type, The Ugly Has A Thousand.

If She Gives Me All Her Time It Is Because I Have All Her Heart.

The Sunshine Was Delightful, The Foliage Gently Astir, More From The Activity Of Birds Than From The Breeze. One Gallant Little Bird, Doubtless Lovelorn, Was Singing His Heart Out At The Top Of A Tall Tree.

He Who Contemplates The Depths Of Paris Is Seized With Vertigo. Nothing Is More Fantastic. Nothing Is More Tragic. Nothing Is More Sublime.

Enthusiasm Is The Fever Of Reason.