As I Have Not Worried To Be

To Burn With Desire And Keep Quiet About It Is The Greatest Punishment We Can Bring On Ourselves.

At First Glance, The Rhythm May Be Confused With Gaiety, But When You Look More Closely At The Mechanism Of Social Life And The Painful Slavery Of Both Men And Machines, You See That It Is Nothing But A Kind Of Typical, Empty Anguish That Makes Even Crime And Gangs Forgivable Means Of Escape.

At The Heart Of All Great Art Is An Essential Melancholy.

Love Is The Kiss In The Quiet Nest While The Leaves Are Trembling, Mirrored In The Water.

The Day We Stop Resisting Our Instincts, We'll Have Learned How To Live.