I Know Not What Tomorrow Will Bring.

Wasting Time Has An Esthetics To It.

To Narrate Is To Create, For Living Is Just Being Lived.

What Is A Disease Is Wishing With An Equal Intensity What Is Needed And What Is Desirable, And Suffer For Not Being Perfect As You Would Suffer For Not Having Bread. The Romantic Error Is This Wanting The Moon As If There Was A Way To Get It.

Without Madness What Is Man But A Wholesome Beast, Postponed Corpse That Begets?

I've Never Done Anything But Dream. This, And This Alone, Has Been The Meaning Of My Life. My Only Real Concern Has Been My Inner Life.