It Bothered Me That Whatever Was Waiting

The Object Of Art Is To Give Life Shape.

There Is Love Of Course. And Then There's Life, Its Enemy.

A Happy Love Is Full Of Quarrels, You Know.

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.

Life Has A Way Of Setting Things In Order And Leaving Them Be. Very Tidy, Is Life.