Art Is Science Made Flesh.

Poetry, Being Elegance Itself, Cannot Hope To Achieve Visibility... It Insists On Living Its Own Life.

Whatever The Public Blames You For, Cultivate It; It Is Yourself.

History Is A Combination Of Reality And Lies. The Reality Of History Becomes A Lie. The Unreality Of The Fable Becomes The Truth.

One Is Either Judge Or Accused. The Judge Sits, The Accused Stands. Live On Your Feet.

Expect Neither Reward Nor Beatitude. Return Noble Waves For Ignoble.