We Love But Once, For

That Sinister Stonehenge Of Economic Man, Rockefeller Center.

If Montaigne Is A Man In The Prime Of Life Sitting In His Study On A Warm Morning And Putting Down The Sum Of His Experience In His Rich, Sinewy Prose, Then Pascal Is That Same Man Lying Awake In The Small Hours Of The Night When Death Seems Very Close And Every Thought Is Heightened By The Apprehension That It May Be His Last.

The Refractory Pupil Of Socrates, Aristippus The Cyrene, Who Believed Happiness To Be The Sum Of Particular Pleasures And Golden Moments And Not, As Epicurus, A Prolonged Intermediary State Between Ecstasy And Pain.

Sheep With A Nasty Side.

Beautiful Women Must Think About Their Beauty As Capitalists Think About Their Investments Or Politicians About Their Majorities; It Is All They Have To Insure Their Places In The World.