Lack Of Manners Is The Sign Of

The Joy Of The Young Is To Disobey

Whatever The World Condemns You For, Make It Your Own. It Is Yourself.

I Have Not Looked At A Newspaper In Twenty Years; If One Is Brought Into The Room, I Flee. This Is Not Because I Am Indifferent But Because One Cannot Follow Every Road.

I Know That Poetry Is Indispensable, But To What I Could Not Say.

In Two Weeks, Despite These Notes, I Shall No Longer Believe In What I Am Experiencing Now. One Must Leave Behind A Trace Of This Journey Which Memory Forgets. One Must, When This Is Impossible, Write Or Draw Without Responding To The Romantic Solicitations Of Pain, Without Enjoying Suffering Like Music, Tieing A Pen To One's Foot If Need Be, Helping The Doctors Who Can Learn Nothing From Laziness.