You Lose Your Immortality When You Lose

We Loved Each Other With A Premature Love, Marked By A Fierceness That So Often Destroys Adult Lives.

Literature And Butterflies Are The Two Sweetest Passions Known To Man.

A Work Of Art Has No Importance Whatever To Society. It Is Only Important To The Individual.

I Am Surrounded By Some Sort Of Wretched Specters, Not By People. They Torment Me As Can Torment Only Senseless Visions, Bad Dreams, Dregs Of Delirium, The Drivel Of Nightmares And Everything That Passes Down Here For Real Life.

A Cluster Of Stars Palely Glowed Above Us, Between The Silhouettes Of Long Thin Leaves; That Vibrant Sky Seemed As Naked As She Was Under Her Light Frock. I Saw Her Face In The Sky, Strangely Distinct, As If It Emitted A Faint Radiance Of Its Own.