The Most Futile Thing In This World

Morality And Ethics Are Nothing But Footballs, Wherewith People, Strong People Play To Win Points.

I Believe In The Compelling Power Of Love.

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.

Art Is The Stored Honey Of The Human Soul, Gathered On Wings Of Misery And Travail.

The Mystery Of Life--its Inexplicability, Beauty, Cruelty, Tenderness, Folly . . . Has Occupied The Greater Part Of My Waking Thoughts; And In Reverence Or Rage Or Irony, As The Moment Or Situation Might Dictate, I Have Pondered And Even Demanded Of Cosmic Energy To Know Why.