All Working, Practical Political Systems, Even Those

Each Generation Must Get On The Same Old Merry-go-round, Only Disguised In A Fresh Coat Of Paint.

But The Great Leveler, Death: Not Even The Gods Can Defend A Man, Not Even One They Love, That Day When Fate Takes Hold And Lays Him Out At Last.

You Are Right, None Of Us Live Enough, And Sometimes I Think It Is Because We Mistake Hurrah And Hullabaloo For Experience, We Get A Sock In The Eye And Think It Is A Broken Heart.

The Real Sin Against Life Is To Abuse And Destroy Beauty, Even One's Own.

A Cultivated Style Would Be Like A Mask. Everybody Knows It's A Mask, And Sooner Or Later You Must Show Yourself -- Or At Least, You Show Yourself As Someone Who Could Not Afford To Show Himself, And So Created Something To Hide Behind. You Do Not Create A Style. You Work, And Develop Yourself; Your Style Is An Emanation From Your Own Being.