Whoever Starts Out Toward The

How Much More Sensuality Invites To Art Than Does Sentimentality.

The Itch Is A Mean, Unconfessable, Ridiculous Malady; One Can Pity Someone Who Is Suffering ; Someone Who Wants To Scratch Himself Makes One Laugh.

Envying Another Man's Happiness Is Madness; You Wouldn't Know What To Do With It If You Had It.

It Is With Fine Sentiments That Bad Literature Is Made. Descend To The Bottom Of The Well If You Wish To See The Stars.

One Doesn't Discover New Lands Without Consenting To Lose Sight, For A Very Long Time, Of The Shore.