In Matters Of Money There's No Such

It Is Restful, Tragedy, Because One Knows That There Is No More Lousy Hope Left. You Know You're Caught, Caught At Last Like A Rat With All The World On Its Back. And The Only Thing Left To Do Is Shout - Not Moan, Or Complain, But Yell Out At The Top Of Your Voice Whatever It Was You Had To Say. What You've Never Said Before. What Perhaps You Don't Even Know Till Now.

A Happy Love Is Full Of Quarrels, You Know.

Believe Me; All Evil Comes From The Old. They Grow Fat On Ideas And Young Men Die Of Them.

Life Is Very Nice, But It Has No Shape. The Object Of Art Is Actually To Give It Some And To Do It By Every Artifice Possible-truer Than The Truth.

A Genius Knows How To Make Himself Easily Understood Without Being Obvious About It.