Art Compares To Nature Like Wine To

The Real Genres: Good And Bad.

This Searching And Doubting And Vacillating Where Nothing Is Clear But The Arrogance Of Quest. I, Too, Had Such Noble Ideas When I Was Still A Boy.

Gratitude Is A Fickle Thing, Indeed. A Person Taking Aim Presses The Weapon To His Chest And Cheek, But When He Hits, He Discardsit With Indifference.

What A Pathetic Creature Is Man! His Senses Are Awakened By The Hope For The Very Thing Whose Consummation Puts Him To Sleep.

Feeling And Thinking Are Actually The Blind Man Who Carries The Lame.