You Don't Think Before You

As For An Authentic Villain, The Real Thing, The Absolute, The Artist, One Rarely Meets Him Even Once In A Lifetime. The Ordinary Bad Hat Is Always In Part A Decent Fellow.

Perhaps The Only Misplaced Curiosity Is That Which Persists In Trying To Find Out Here, On This Side Of Death, What Lies Beyond The Grave.

Among All The Modernized Aspects Of The Most Luxurious Of Industries, The Model, A Vestige Of Voluptuous Barbarianism, Is Like Some Plunder-laden Prey. She Is The Object Of Unbridled Regard, A Living Bait, The Passive Realization Of An Ideal. No Other Female Occupation Contains Such Potent Impulses To Moral Disintegration As This One, Applying As It Does The Outward Signs Of Riches To A Poor And Beautiful Girl.

At Sixty-three Years Of Age, Less A Quarter, One Still Has Plans.

If I Can't Have Too Many Truffles, I'll Do Without Truffles.