Promise Is The Capacity For Letting People

Nothing Dates Like Hate And In Literature A Little Of It Goes A Very Long Way.

The Civilized Are Those Who Get More Out Of Life Than The Uncivilized, And For This We Are Not Likely To Be Forgiven.

Our Memories Are Card Indexes Consulted And Then Returned In Disorder By Authorities Whom We Do Not Control.

A Stone Lies In A River; A Piece Of Wood Is Jammed Against It; Dead Leaves, Drifting Logs, And Branches Caked With Mud Collect; Weeds Settle There, And Soon Birds Have Made A Nest And Are Feeding Their Young Among The Blossoming Water Plants. Then The River Rises And The Earth Is Washed Away. The Birds Depart, The Flowers Wither, The Branches Are Dislodged And Drift Downward; No Trace Is Left Of The Floating Island But A Stone Submerged By The Water; - Such Is Our Personality.

The Reward Of Art Is Not Fame Or Success But Intoxication.