Happiness May Have But One

It Is Easy To Promise, And Alas! How Easy To Forget!

Life Is A Deep Sleep Of Which Love Is The Dream

I Don't Know Where My Road Is Going, But I Know That I Walk Better When I Hold Your Hand.

The Blood Of My Motherland Waters A Magic Plant That Cures All Ills. That Plant Is Art, And Sometimes Art Needs Corruption As A Kind Of Fertilizer

If You Are Weak, Dependent Upon Others, Inclined To Allow Yourself To Be Dominated By Opinion, To Take Root Wherever You See A Little Soil, Make For Yourself A Shield That Will Resist Everything, For If You Yield To Your Weaker Nature You Will Not Grow, You Will Dry Up Like A Dead Plant, And You Will Bear Neither Fruit Nor Flowers.