Ideas Often Last But A Day; Feelings,

I Felt The Vulnerability, The Fragility Of The Children Of The World, And How It Was, Nonetheless, On Their Frail Shoulders That We Loaded The Weight Of Our Weary Hopes And Eternal New Beginnings.

The Life Of A Writer Is Tragic: The More We Advance, The Farther There Is To Go And The More There Is To Say, The Less Time There Is To Say It.

The Main Engagement Of The Writer Is Towards Truthfulness; Therefore He Must Keep His Mind And His Judgment Free.

One Knows Less About One's Own Destiny Than About Anything Else On Earth.

Could We Ever Know Each Other In The Slightest Without The Arts?