Why Must Women Torment Me So?

Innate Sensuousness Rarely Has Any Desire For Accuracy, No Desire For Precise Information. It Basks In Sunshine, Bathes In Color, Dwells In A Sense Of The Impressive And The Gorgeous, And Rests There. Accuracy Is Not Necessary Except In The Case Of Aggressive, Acquisitive Natures, When It Manifests Itself In A Desire To Seize. True Controlling Sensuousness Cannot Be Manifested In The Most Active Dispositions, Nor Again In The Most Accurate.

I Believe In The Compelling Power Of Love. I Do Not Understand It. I Believe It To Be The Most Fragrant Blossom Of All This Thorny Existence.

I Have Seen Youths Bright Eyed And Fair Groping After Bubbles In Rapture, And Conceiving Them Diamonds And The Glitter Of Fine Jewels, Until Their Hand Closed Over A Something That Was Not To Be Felt Nor Longer Seen, Mere Colored Air.

The Most Futile Thing In This World Is Any Attempt, Perhaps, At Exact Definition Of Character. All Individuals Are A Bundle Of Contradictions - None More So Than The Most Capable.

We Are To Have No Pictures Which The Puritan And The Narrow, Animated By An Obsolete Dogma, Cannot Approve Of. We Are To Have No Theaters No Motion Pictures, No Books, No Public Exhibitions Of Any Kind, No Speech Even Which Will Anyway Contravene His Limited View Of Life.