Let Us Leave The Cure Of Public

Love, According To Our Contemporary Poets, Is A Privilege Which Two Beings Confer Upon One Another, Whereby They May Mutually Cause One Another Much Sorrow Over Absolutely Nothing.

Incurable Wounds Are Those Inflicted By Tongue And Eye, By Mockery And Disdain.

Your Women Of Fashion Ceases To Be A Woman. She Is Neither Mother, Nor Wife, Nor Lover. She Is, Medically Speaking, Sex On The Brain.

We Do Not Attach Ourselves Lastingly To Anything That Has Not Cost Us Care, Labor Or Longing.

The Fame Of Surgeons Resembles The Fame Of Actors, Who Live Only During Their Lifetime And Whose Talent Is No Longer Appreciable Once They Have Disappeared.