We Amuse Ourselves Painting Our Prison-walls With

Everything Perfect In Its Kind Has To Transcend Its Own Kind, It Must Become Something Different And Incomparable. In Some Notes The Nightingale Is Still A Bird; Then It Rises Above Its Class And Seems To Suggest To Every Winged Creature What Singing Is Truly Like.

How Often Do I Lull My Seething Blood To Rest, For You Have Never Seen Anything So Unsteady, So Uncertain, As This Heart.

Everyone Believes In His Youth That The World Really Began With Him, And That All Merely Exists For His Sake.

I Do Not Know Myself, And God Forbid That I Should.

No One As Ever Completed Their Apprenticeship.