My Tears Are Buried In My Heart,

Knowledge Is Much Like Dust - It Sticks To One, One Does Not Know How.

Hopes And Regrets Are The Sweetest Links Of Existence.

Good Taste Is His Religion, His Morality, His Standard, And His Test.

Strange Mystery Of Our Nature, That Those In Whom Genius Develops Itself In Imagination, Thus Taking Its Most Ethereal Form, Should Yet Be The Most Dependent On The Opinions Of Others!

Are We Not Like The Actor Of Old Times, Who Wore His Mask So Long His Face Took Its Likeness?