Reason May Cure Illusions, But

What A Frightful Weapon Is Human Thought! It Is Our Defense And Our Safeguard, The Most Precious Gift That God Has Made Us. It Is Ours And It Obeys Us; We May Launch It Forth Into Space, But, Once Outside Of Our Feeble Brains, It Is Gone; We Can No Longer Control It.

It Is Easy To Promise, And Alas! How Easy To Forget!

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

The Apartments Of The Rich Are Cabinets Of Curiosities: A Conglomeration Of Classical Antiquity, Gothic, Renaissance; Louis Xiii... Something From Every Century But Our Own, A Predicament That Has Arisen In No Other Period... So That We Seem To Be Subsisting On The Ruins Of The Past, As If The End Of The World Were Near.

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