It Is With Fine Sentiments That Bad

The Work Of Art Is The Exaggeration Of An Idea.

A Caterpillar Who Seeks To Know Himself Would Never Become A Butterfly

The Want Of Logic Annoys. Too Much Logic Bores. Life Eludes Logic, And Everything That Logic Alone Constructs Remains Artificial And Forced.

With Each Book You Write You Should Lose The Admirers You Gained With The Previous One.

The Truth Is, I Hoped The Cure Would Dislike Me. I Tried To Think Of Disagreeable Things To Say To Him -- I Could Hit On Nothing That Wasn't Charming. It's Wonderful How Hard I Find It Not To Be Fascinating.