One Must Not Trifle With Love

Look At The Sun! It’s Dry, It’s Dead, It Needs A Drink, It Wants Blood! And I’ll Give It Blood!

The Only True Language In The World Is A Kiss.

What I Need Is A Woman Who Is Something, Anything: Either Very Beautiful Or Very Kind Or In The Last Resort Very Wicked; Very Witty Or Very Stupid, But Something.

How Glorious It Is - And Also How Painful - To Be An Exception.

The Fumes Of Wine Fermented In My Head; It Was One Of Those Moments Of Intoxication When All That Ones Sees And Hears, Speaks To One Of The Adored.... One Would Willingly Embrace All Who Smile, And One Feels That He Is Brother Of All Who Live.