The Great Artists Are Those Who Impose

I Said, 'if Other Beings Besides Us Exist On Earth, Why Didn't We Meet Them A Long Time Ago?

There Are Some Delightful Places In This World Which Have A Sensual Charm For The Eyes. One Loves Them With A Physical Love. We People Who Are Attracted By The Countryside Cherish Fond Memories Of Certain Springs, Certain Woods, Certain Ponds, Certain Hills, Which Have Become Familiar Sights And Can Touch Our Hearts Like Happy Events. Sometimes Indeed The Memory Goes Back Towards A Forest Glade, Or A Spot On A River Bank Or An Orchard In Blossom, Glimpsed Only Once On A Happy Day, But Preserved In Our Heart.

Sometimes Our Thoughts Turn Back Toward A Corner In A Forest, Or The End Of A Bank, Or An Orchard Powdered With Flowers, Seen But A Single Time On Some Happy Day, Yet Remaining In Our Hearts And Leaving In Soul And Body An Unappeased Desire Which Is Not To Be Forgotten, A Feeling That We Have Just Rubbed Elbows With Happiness.

The Public Is Composed Of Numerous Groups Whose Cry To Us Writers Is: 'comfort Me.' 'amuse Me.' 'touch My Sympathies.' 'make Me Sad.' 'make Me Dream.' 'make Me Laugh.' 'make Me Shiver.' 'make Me Weep.' 'make Me Think.'

Conversation. What Is It? A Mystery! It's The Art Of Never Seeming Bored, Of Touching Everything With Interest, Of Pleasing With Trifles, Of Being Fascinating With Nothing At All.