History Is An Endless Repetition Of The

Love Is Like Trench Warfare - You Cannot See The Enemy, But You Know He Is There And That It Is Wiser To Keep Your Head Down.

Like All Young Men I Set Out To Be A Genius, But Mercifully Laughter Intervened.

No One Can Go On Being A Rebel Too Long Without Turning Into An Autocrat.

Art—the Meaning Of The Pattern Of Our Common Actions In Reality. The Cloth-of-gold That Hides Behind The Sackcloth Of Reality, Forced Out By The Pain Of Human Memory.

I Have Been Thinking About The Girl I Met Last Night In The Mirror: Dark On The Marble-ivory White: Glossy Black Hair: Deep Suspiring Eyes In Which One's Glances Sink Because They Are Nervous, Curious, Turned To Sexual Curiosity.