Every Word Is Like An Unnecessary Stain

The Bicycle Is A Great Good. But It Can Turn Nasty, If Ill Employed.

What Do We Do Now, Now That We Are Happy?

The Tears Of The World Are A Constant Quantity. For Each One Who Begins To Weep, Somewhere Else Another Stops. The Same Is True Of The Laugh.

Reality, Whether Approached Imaginatively Or Empirically, Remains A Surface, Hermetic.

That Penny Farthing Hell You Call Your Mind