Whoever Starts Out Toward The

Sadness Is Almost Never Anything But A Form Of Fatigue.

If Life Were Organized, There Would Be No Need For Art.

One Doesn't Discover New Lands Without Consenting To Lose Sight, For A Very Long Time, Of The Shore.

At Times Is It Seems That I Am Living My Life Backward, And That At The Approach Of Old Age My Real Youth Will Begin. My Soul Was Born Covered With Wrinkles. Wrinkles My Ancestors And Parents Most Assiduously Put There And That I Had The Greatest Trouble Removing.

In Other People's Company I Felt I Was Dull, Gloomy, Unwelcome, At Once Bored And Boring.