Talent Is Like A Faucet, While It

Life Has A Way Of Setting Things In Order And Leaving Them Be. Very Tidy, Is Life.

Believe Me; All Evil Comes From The Old. They Grow Fat On Ideas And Young Men Die Of Them.

My Wife Was An Opera Singer, You Know. She Bellowed Her Way Through Wagner As A Valkyrie. I Married Her And Made Her Give Up The Theatre, To My Eternal Cost. She Was To Go On Acting For Myself Alone. A Performance At His Own Expense, Lasting For More Than Twenty Years, Tends To Wear Out Your Spectator.

In Your Efforts To Dazzle Us Your Reasoning Has Gone Awry. You Know Very Well That Love Is, Above All, The Gift Of Oneself.

Listen, My Friend, There Are Two Races Of Beings. The Masses Teeming And Happy - Common Clay, If You Like - Eating, Breeding, Working, Counting Their Pennies; People Who Just Live; Ordinary People; People You Can't Imagine Dead. And Then There Are The Others - The Noble Ones, The Heroes. The Ones You Can Quite Well Imagine Lying Shot, Pale And Tragic; One Minute Triumphant With A Guard Of Honor, And The Next Being Marched Away Between Two Gendarmes