Wherever They Burn Books They Will Also,

Perfumes Are The Feelings Of Flowers, And As The Human Heart, Imagining Itself Alone And Unwatched, Feels Most Deeply In The Night-time, So Seems It As If The Flowers, In Musing Modesty, Await The Mantling Eventide Ere They Give Themselves Up Wholly To Feeling...

In Vain Would I Seek To Discover Why Sad And Mournful Am I, My Thoughts Without Ceasing Brood Over A Tale Of The Time Gone By.

God Will Forgive Me. It's His Job." Heine Said This On His Deathbed (1856). Hilarious. He Must Have Thought That Up Years Before And Counted The Seconds To Use It.

He Who Fears To Venture As Far As His Heart Urges And His Reason Permits, Is A Coward; He Who Ventures Further Than He Intended To Go, Is A Slave.

We Know Only That Our Entire Existence Is Forced Into New Paths And Disrupted, That New Circumstances, New Joys And New Sorrows Await Us, And That The Unknown Has Its Uncanny Attractions, Alluring And At The Same Time Anguishing.