Love Is Always Love, Come Whence It

Champagne... The Wine Of Kings, The King Of Wines

The Great Artists Are Those Who Impose Their Personal Vision Upon Humanity.

We Are Accustomed To Use Our Eyes Only With The Memory Of What Other People Before Us Have Thought About The Object We Are Looking At.

Night Was A Very Different Matter. It Was Dense, Thicker Than The Very Walls, And It Was Empty, So Black, So Immense That Within It You Could Brush Against Appalling Things And Feel Roaming And Prowling Around A Strange, Mysterious Horror.

How Weak Our Mind Is; How Quickly It Is Terrified And Unbalanced As Soon As We Are Confronted With A Small, Incomprehensible Fact. Instead Of Dismissing The Problem With: "we Do Not Understand Because We Cannot Find The Cause," We Immediately Imagine Terrible Mysteries And Supernatural Powers.