I Am A Man For Whom The

Books Follow Morals, And Not Morals Books.

High Art Alone Is Eternal And The Bust Outlives The City.

Fortune Loves To Give Bedroom Slippers To People With Wooden Legs, And Gloves To Those With No Hands.

Whatever May Have Been Said Of The Satiety Of Pleasure And Of The Disgust Which Usually Follows Passion, Any Man Who Has Anything Of A Heart And Who Is Not Wretchedly And Hopelessly Blasé Feels His Love Increased By His Happiness, And Very Often The Best Way To Retain A Lover Ready To Leave Is To Give One's Self Up To Him Without Reserve.

Any Man Who Does Not Have His Inner World To Translate Is Not An Artist.