Melancholy Is The Happiness Of Being Sad.

A House Is Built Of Logs And Stone, Of Tiles And Posts And Piers; A Home Is Built Of Loving Deeds That Stand A Thousand Years.

One Sometimes Says: 'he Killed Himself Because He Was Bored With Life.' One Ought Rather To Say: 'he Killed Himself Because He Was Bored By Lack Of Life.'

And Do You Know Monsieur Marius? I Believe I Was A Little In Love With You.

Every Bird Which Flies Has The Thread Of The Infinite In Its Claw. Germination Includes The Hatching Of A Meteor And The Tap Of A Swallow's Bill Breaking The Egg, And It Leads Forward The Birth Of An Earth-worm And The Advent Of Socrates.

There Is Suffering In The Light; In Excess It Burns. Flame Is Hostile To The Wing. To Burn And Yet To Fly, This Is The Miracle Of Genius.