Experience Is The Name Men

The Glass I Drink From Is Not Large, But At Least It Is My Own.

In My Flowery Dreams There's Always You. I Do Not Regret It One Bit.

Great Artists Have No Country.

Happiness May Have But One Night, As Glory But One Day.

It Was One Of Those Somber Evenings When The Sighing Of The Wind Resembles The Moans Of A Dying Man; A Storm Was Brewing, And Between The Splashes Of Rain On The Windows There Was The Silence Of Death. All Nature Suffers In Such Moments; The Trees Writhe In Pain And Twist Their Heads; The Birds Of The Fields Cower Under The Bushes; The Streets Of Cities Are Deserted.