Joy Always Came After Pain.

I Love Men, Not For What Unites Them, But For What Divides Them, And I Want To Know Most Of All What Gnaws At Their Hearts.

Without Poets, Without Artists, Men Would Soon Weary Of Nature's Monotony.

Joy Came Always After Pain.

One Day/ One Day I Waited For Myself/ I Said To Myself Guillaume It's Time You Came/ So I Could Know Just Who I Am/ I Who Know Others.

Color Is The Fruit Of Life.