I Can Barely Conceive Of A Type

Alas, Human Vices, However Horrible One Might Imagine Them To Be, Contain The Proof (were It Only In Their Infinite Expansion) Of Man's Longing For The Infinite; But It Is A Longing That Often Takes The Wrong Route. It Is My Belief That The Reason Behind All Culpable Excesses Lies In This Depravation Of The Sense Of The Infinite.

What I Say Is That The Supreme And Singular Joy Of Making Love Resides In The Certainty Of Doing Evil.

Nothing Can Be Done Except Little By Little.

The Will To Work Must Dominate, For Art Is Long And Time Is Brief.

Hypocrite Reader My Fellow My Brother!