I Have Forgotten My Umbrella.

One Has Been A Poor Spectator Of Life If One Has Not Witnessed The Hand - That Kills From Mercy.

Insects Sting, Not From Malice, But Because They Want To Live. It Is The Same With Critics; They Desire Our Blood Not Our Pain.

Nothing Seems To Me To Be Rarer Today Then Genuine Hypocrisy. I Greatly Suspect That This Plant Finds The Mild Atmosphere Of Our Culture Unendurable. Hypocrisy Has Its Place In The Ages Of Strong Belief: In Which Even When One Is Compelled To Exhibit A Different Belief One Does Not Abandon The Belief One Already Has.

Either One Does Not Dream, Or One Does So Interestingly. One Should Learn To Spend One's Waking Life In The Same Way: Not At All, Or Interestingly.

The Best Belongs To Me And Mine; And If We Are Not Given It, We Take It: The Best Food, The Purest Sky, The Most Robust Thoughts, The Fairest Women!