No, Father, I've A Very

Love Is The Kind Of Illness That Does Not Spare The Intelligent Or The Dull.

An Intellectual Is Someone Whose Mind Watches Itself.

Like Great Works, Deep Feelings Always Mean More Than They Are Conscious Of Saying.

More And More, When Faced With The World Of Men, The Only Reaction Is One Of Individualism. Man Alone Is An End Unto Himself. Everything One Tries To Do For The Common Good Ends In Failure.

There Is In Me An Anarchy And Frightful Disorder. Creating Makes Me Die A Thousand Deaths, Because It Means Making Order, And My Entire Being Rebels Against Order. But Without It I Would Die, Scattered To The Winds.