Perfect Behaviour Is Born Of

Dawn's Faint Breath Breathes With Your Mouth At The Ends Of Empty Streets. Gray Light Your Eyes, Sweet Drops Of Dawn On Dark Hills. Your Steps And Breath Like The Wind Of Dawn Smother Houses. The City Shudders, Stones Exhale— You Are Life, An Awakening. Star Lost In The Light Of Dawn, Trill Of The Breeze, Warmth, Breath— The Night Is Done. You Are Light And Morning.

There Is Only One Pleasure-that Of Being Alive. All The Rest Is Misery.

If It Is True That One Gets Used To Suffering, How Is It That As The Years Go One Always Suffers More? No, They Are Not Mad, Those People Who Amuse Themselves, Enjoy Life, Travel, Make Love, Fight They Are Not Mad. We Should Like To Do The Same Ourselves.

When A Woman Marries She Belongs To Another Man; And When She Belongs To Another Man There Is Nothing More You Can Say To Her.

It Is Not The Actual Enjoyment Of Pleasure That We Desire. What We Want Is To Test The Futility Of That Pleasure, So As To Be No Longer Obsessed By It.