I Know No Joy As Great As

Your Eyes Make Me Shy

He Has, Like Me, A Sense Of Smell. I Let Him Inhale Me, Then I Slip Away.

A Man Fell In Love With Jeanne, And She Tried To Love Him. But She Complained That He Uttered Such Ordinary Words, That He Could Never Say The Magic Phrase Which Would Open Her Being.

I Cannot Concentrate All My Friendship On Any Single One Of My Friends Because No One Is Complete Enough In Himself.

Idealism Is The Death Of The Body And The Imagination. All But Freedom, Utter Freedom, Is Death