Unconditional Love Is A Lofty

New York Loves Itself In An Unkind And Fanatical Way.

I Must Like My Profession, Since I Can Hardly Distinguish Myself From It.

I Keep Renaming My Motives, But Continue Doing The Same Things.

The Young Are Just As Opinionated As The Old, But Have More Exciting Things To Do Than Sit Around Airing Their Opinions All Day.

The Desire To Create Literature Leads To Frights, Grunts, And Coy Looks.