Look At The Sun! It’s

Great Artists Have No Country.

If Love Is A Play, This Play, As Old As The World, Fiasco Or Not, It Is, All In All, The Least Bad Thing That Has So Far Been Found. The Roles Are Trite, I Admit, But If The Play Had No Value The Whole Universe Wouldn’t Know It By Heart

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.

The Only Truth Is Love Beyond Reason.

It Was One Of Those Somber Evenings When The Sighing Of The Wind Resembles The Moans Of A Dying Man; A Storm Was Brewing, And Between The Splashes Of Rain On The Windows There Was The Silence Of Death. All Nature Suffers In Such Moments; The Trees Writhe In Pain And Twist Their Heads; The Birds Of The Fields Cower Under The Bushes; The Streets Of Cities Are Deserted.