It Is Necessary To Sleep Upon The

I Do Not Like To "interest" The Public With Myself.

The Art Of Writing Is The Art Of Discovering What You Believe.

He Dreamed Of Funeral Love, But Dreams Crumble And The Tomb Abides

Years Passed; And He Endured The Idleness Of His Intelligence And The Inertia Of His Heart.

The Idea Of Bringing Someone Into The World Fills Me With Horror. I Would Curse Myself If I Were A Father. A Son Of Mine! Oh No, No, No! May My Entire Flesh Perish And May I Transmit To No One The Aggravations And The Disgrace Of Existence.