The Essence Of Poetry Is Will And

Everything Is In Motion. Everything Flows. Everything Is Vibrating.

We Grow Tired Of Ourselves, Much More Of Other People.

Women Never Reason, And Therefore They Are (comparatively) Seldom Wrong.

The World Dread Nothing So Much As Being Convinced Of Their Errors.

The Mind Of Man Is Like A Clock That Is Always Running Down, And Requires To Be Constantly Wound Up.