Ah, There Are No Children Nowadays.

[dom Juan] Believes Neither In Heaven, Nor The Saints, Nor God, Nor The Werewolf.

I Have The Fault Of Being A Little More Sincere Than Is Proper.

Nearly All Men Die Of Their Medicines, Not Of Their Diseases.

The Maturing Process Of Becoming A Writer Is Akin To That Of A Harlot. First You Do It For Love, Then For A Few Friends, And Finally Only For Money.

In Order To Prove A Friend To One's Guests, Frugality Must Reign In One's Meals; And, According To An Ancient Saying, One Must Eat To Live, Not Live To Eat.