When They Are Among Us Cats Are

I Love Everything That Makes Up A Milieu, The Rolling Of The Carriages And The Noise Of The Workmen In Paris, The Cries Of A Thousand Birds In The Country, The Movement Of The Ships On The Waters. I Love Also Absolute, Profound Silence, And, In Short, I Love Everything That Is Around Me, No Matter Where I Am.

... Love Is Too Delicate A Flower To Rise Again When One Has Trampled It Under Foot.

Happiness Lies In The Consciousness We Have Of It.

Writing A Journal Means That Facing Your Ocean You Are Afraid To Swim Across It, So You Attempt To Drink It Drop By Drop.

Party Politics Is Now A Real Farce.