The Skin Of All Of

Take A Commonplace, Clean It And Polish It, Light It So That It Produces The Same Effect Of Youth And Freshness And Originality And Spontaneity As It Did Originally, And You Have Done A Poet's Job. The Rest Is Literature.

My Only Politics Have Been Friendship.

The Eyes Of The Dead Are Closed Gently; We Also Have To Open Gently The Eyes Of The Living.

Expect Neither Reward Nor Beatitude. Return Noble Waves For Ignoble.

What Uniform Can I Wear To Hide My Heavy Heart? It Is Too Heavy. It Will Always Show. Jacques Felt Himself Growing Gloomy Again. He Was Well Aware That To Live On Earth A Man Must Follow Its Fashions, And Hearts Were No Longer Worn.