A Writer Is A World Trapped In

And Do You Know Monsieur Marius? I Believe I Was A Little In Love With You.

How Did It Happen That Their Lips Came Together? How Does It Happen That Birds Sing, That Snow Melts, That The Rose Unfolds, That The Dawn Whitens Behind The Stark Shapes Of Trees On The Quivering Summit Of The Hill? A Kiss, And All Was Said.

Youth Is The Future Smiling At A Stranger, Which Is Itself.

God Secludes Himself; But The Thinker Listens At The Door.

The Wise Man Is He Who Knows When And How To Stop