Few Persons Enjoy Real Liberty;

A Lively Retrospect Summons Back To Us Once More Our Youth, With Vivid Reflex Of Its Early Joys And Unstained Pleasures.

Look At The Sun! It’s Dry, It’s Dead, It Needs A Drink, It Wants Blood! And I’ll Give It Blood!

Disgrace Is The Synonym Of Discovery.

Romanticism Is The Abuse Of Adjectives

Man Is A Pupil, Pain Is His Teacher.