There Is No Beauty Without Order.

All Things Are Possible Until They Are Proved Impossible - And Even The Impossible May Only Be So, As Of Now.

Love Can Never Be A Sin. It Can Be Only A Blessing. Even If You're Not Loved In Return -- Though I Can't Imagine That -- To Love Is A Proof Of Life -- Indeed, It's The Only Proof, For Once You Can't Love Another Human Being, You're Not Alive.

Add To This Cruelly Delicate Organism The Overpowering Necessity To Create, Create, Create - So That Without The Creating Of Music Or Poetry Or Books Or Buildings Or Something Of Meaning, His Very Breath Is Cut Off From Him. He Must Create, Must Pour Out Creation. By Some Strange, Unknown, Inward Urgency He Is Not Really Alive Unless He Is Creating.

The Boundary Between Civilization And Barbarism Is Difficult To Draw: Put One Ring In Your Nose And You Are A Savage, Put Two Rings In Your Ears And You Are Civilized.

Love Cannot Be Forced, Love Cannot Be Coaxed And Teased. It Comes Out Of Heaven, Unasked And Unsought.