History Is The Zoology Of

A Love That Dies Has Never Lived.

The Present Is Never Poetic As It Serves Necessity, Necessity, However, Is Prosaic.

Reason And The Ability To Use It Are Two Separate Skills.

Someone Who Is Reluctant To Say What He Needs To Say, Often Ends Up Doing So With An Insolence Whose Crassness Is Proportionate Tohis Fear, Once He Gathers The Necessary Courage.

What A Pathetic Creature Is Man! His Senses Are Awakened By The Hope For The Very Thing Whose Consummation Puts Him To Sleep.