You Would Have Imagined Her

The Pupil Dilates In Darkness And In The End Finds Light, Just As The Soul Dilates In Misfortune And In The End Finds God.

The True Artist Can Only Labor Con Amore.

God Was Bored By Him.

Paris Is A Sum Total. Paris Is The Ceiling Of The Human Race. All This Prodigious City Is An Epitome Of Dead And Living Manners And Customs. He Who Sees Paris, Seems To See All History Through With The Sky And Constellations In The Intervals.

So A Voice In The Mountain Is Enough To Let Loose An Avalanche. A Word Too Much May Be Followed By A Caving In. If The Word Had Not Been Spoken, It Would Not Have Happened.