There's A Bit Of Testicle

Man Was Born To Live With His Fellow Human Beings. Separate Him, Isolate Him, His Character Will Go Bad, A Thousand Ridiculous Affects Will Invade His Heart, Extravagant Thoughts Will Germinate In His Brain, Like Thorns In An Uncultivated Land.

Only The Bad Man Is Alone.

There Is No Moral Precept That Does Not Have Something Inconvenient About It.

I Discuss With Myself Questions Of Politics, Love, Taste, Or Philosophy. I Let My Mind Rove Wantonly, Give It Free Rein To Followany Idea, Wise Or Mad That May Present Itself. My Ideas Are My Harlots.

La Poe Sie Veutquelque Chose D'e Norme, Debarbare Et De Sauvage. Poetry Needs Something On The Scale Of The Grand, The Barbarous, The Savage.