Happiness Comes The Way The Wind Blows.

The History Of A Man's Soul, Even The Pettiest Soul, Is Hardly Less Interesting And Useful Than The History Of A Whole People; Especially When The Former Is The Result Of The Observations Of A Mature Mind Upon Itself, And Has Been Written Without Any Egotistical Desire Of Arousing Sympathy Or Astonishment. Rousseau's Confessions Has Precisely This Defect – He Read It To His Friends.

Women Love Only Those Whom They Do Not Know!

One Should Never Spurn A Penitent Criminal: In His Despair He May Become Twice As Much A Criminal As Before.

Women Only Love Those That They Don’t Know.

What Is This Eternity To Me Without You? What Is The Infinity Of My Domains? Empty Ringing Words, A Spacious Temple - Without A Divinity!