Some Men Like To Make

It Is Restful, Tragedy, Because One Knows That There Is No More Lousy Hope Left. You Know You're Caught, Caught At Last Like A Rat With All The World On Its Back. And The Only Thing Left To Do Is Shout - Not Moan, Or Complain, But Yell Out At The Top Of Your Voice Whatever It Was You Had To Say. What You've Never Said Before. What Perhaps You Don't Even Know Till Now.

The True Masters Of The Art Of Living Are Already Happy.

Il Y Aura Toujours Un Chien Perdu Quelque Part Qui M'empe" Chera D'e" Tre Heureux. There Will Always Be A Lost Dog Somewhere That Will Prevent Me Being Happy.

I Like Reality. It Tastes Like Bread.

Believe Me; All Evil Comes From The Old. They Grow Fat On Ideas And Young Men Die Of Them.