The Man Who Is Happy Is Fulfilling

I Love The Sticky Leaves In Spring, The Blue Sky — That’s All It Is. It’s Not A Matter Of Intellect Or Logic, It’s Loving With One’s Inside, With One’s Stomach.

If There Were No God, He Would Have To Be Invented.

Your Hand Is Cold, Mine Burns Like Fire. How Blind You Are, Nastenka!

You Will Burn And You Will Burn Out; You Will Be Healed And Come Back Again.

Gentlemen, Let Us Suppose That Man Is Not Stupid. (indeed One Cannot Refuse To Suppose That, If Only From The One Consideration, That, If Man Is Stupid, Then Who Is Wise?) But If He Is Not Stupid, He Is Monstrously Ungrateful! Phenomenally Ungrateful. In Fact, I Believe That The Best Definition Of Man Is The Ungrateful Biped.