One's Favorite Book Is As Elusive As

It Was Pleasant To Wake Up In Florence, To Open The Eyes Upon A Bright Bare Room, With A Floor Of Red Tiles Which Look Clean Though They Are Not; With A Painted Ceiling Whereon Pink Griffins And Blue Amorini Sport In A Forest Of Yellow Violins And Bassoons. It Was Pleasant, Too, To Fling Wide The Windows, Pinching The Fingers In Unfamiliar Fastenings, To Lean Out Into Sunshine With Beautiful Hills And Trees And Marble Churches Opposite, And, Close Below, Arno, Gurgling Against The Embankment Of The Road.

Think Before You Speak Is Criticism's Motto; Speak Before You Think, Creation's.

The Bully And His Victim Never Quite Forget Their First Relations.

I Do Not Believe In Belief.

She Must Be Assured That It Is Not A Criminal Offense To Love At First Sight.