To Me, The Explanation Of

I Felt That Paris Was Illuminated By A Splendor Possessed By No Other Places.

Tragedy Should Remain The Right Of Human Beings, Subject, In Their Conditions Or In Their Own Nature, To The Dire Law Of Necessity. To Them It Is Salvation And Beatification.

No Domestic Animal Can Be As Still As A Wild Animal. The Civilized People Have Lost The Aptitude Of Stillness, And Must Take Lessons In Silence From The Wild Before They Are Accepted By It.

People Who Dream When They Sleep At Night Know Of A Special Kind Of Happiness Which The World Of The Day Holds Not, A Placid Ecstasy, And Ease Of Heart, That Are Like Honey On The Tongue. They Also Know That The Real Glory Of Dreams Lies In Their Atmosphere Of Unlimited Freedom. It Is Not The Freedom Of The Dictator, Who Enforces His Own Will On The World, But The Freedom Of The Artist, Who Has No Will, Who Is Free Of Will.

God Made The World, My Lord, And Looked At It, And Saw That It Was Good. Yes. But What If The World Had Looked Back At Him, To See Whether He Was Good Or Not?