The Flower You Single Out

* If Someone Loves A Flower, Of Which Just One Single Blossom Grows, In All The Millions Of Stars, It Is Enough To Make Him Happy Just To Look At The Stars.

Pure Logic Is The Ruin Of The Spirit.

What Do We Mean By Setting A Man Free? You Cannot Free A Man Who Dwells In A Desert And Is An Unfeeling Brute.

What Torments Me Is Not The Humps Nor Hollows Nor The Ugliness. It Is The Sight, A Little Bit In All These Men, Of Mozart Murdered.

It Is Only With The Heart That One Can See Rightly.