Ah! What Pleasure It Must Be To

Stupidity Assumes Two Forms, It Speaks Or Is Silent. Mute Stupidity Is Bearable.

Modern Reformers Offer Nebulous Theories Or Write Philanthropic Novels. But Your Thief Acts! He Is As Clear As A Fact And As Logical As A Punch On The Nose! And What A Style He Has!

Love, According To Our Contemporary Poets, Is A Privilege Which Two Beings Confer Upon One Another, Whereby They May Mutually Cause One Another Much Sorrow Over Absolutely Nothing.

I Can No Longer Think Of Anything But You. In Spite Of Myself, My Imagination Carries Me To You. I Grasp You, I Kiss You, I Caress You, A Thousand Of The Most Amorous Caresses Take Possession Of Me.

Love Is A Religion, And Its Rituals Cost More Than Those Of Other Religions. It Goes By Quickly And, Like A Street Urchin, It Likes To Mark Its Passage By A Trail Of Devastation.