Nothing Is A Sin When

Each Memorable Verse Of A True Poet Has Two Or Three Times The Written Content.

How Glorious It Is - And Also How Painful - To Be An Exception.

Take Time As It Comes, The Wind As It Blows, Woman As She Is.

... But One Loves, And When One Is On The Brink Of Death, One Turns Around To Look Backward, And One Says To Oneself: "i Have Often Suffered, I Have Sometimes Been Wrong, But I Have Loved.

I Could Not Clearly Distinguish What Was Passing In My Head; It Seemed To Me That I Was Under The Influence Of A Horrible Dream And That I Had But To Awake To Find Myself Cured; At Times It Seemed That My Entire Life Had Been A Dream, Ridiculous And Childish, The Falseness Of Which Had Just Been Disclosed.