By Dint Of Railing At

Talent Is A Long Patience.

Abstraction Can Provide Stumbling Blocks For People Of Strange Intelligence.

The One Way Of Tolerating Existence Is To Lose Oneself In Literature As In A Perpetual Orgy.

A Man, At Least, Is Free; He Can Explore Every Passion, Every Land, Overcome Obstacles, Taste The Most Distant Pleasures. But A Woman Is Continually Thwarted. Inert And Pliant At The Same Time, She Must Struggle Against Both The Softness Of Her Flesh And Subjection To The Law. Her Will, Like The Veil Tied To Her Hat By A String, Flutters With Every Breeze; There Is Always Some Desire Luring Her On, Some Convention Holding Her Back.

By Trying To Understand Everything, Everything Makes Me Dream