Nothing Is Proved, All Is Permitted.

I Sacrifice To The God Of Beauty — The Impulse To Beauty In Nature. Here Are Flowers. Here Is Wine Spilled On The Floor. I Will Burn Incense & Myrhh. I Will Kneel & Strike My Breast & Touch The Dust With My Forehead. I Will I Will! Only Do Not Forsake Me, Oh God Of Beauty.

It Is A Sad Thing To Want For Happiness, But It Is A Terrible Thing To See Another Groping About Blindly For It, When It Is Almost Within The Grasp.

In Order To Have Wisdom We Must Have Ignorance.

A Real Flame Of Love Is A Subtle Thing. It Burns As A Will-o'-the-wisp, Dancing Onward To Fairy Lands Of Delight. It Roars As A Furnace. Too Often Jealousy Is The Quality Upon Which It Feeds.

A Thought Will Color A World For Us.