These Are The Moments Which Are Not

These Are The Moments Which Are Not Calculable, And Cannot Be Assessed In Words; They Live On In The Solution Of Memory, Like Wonderful Creatures, Unique Of Their Own Kind, Dredged Up From The Floors Of Some Unexplored Ocean.

A Taste Older Than Meat, Older Than Wine. A Taste As Old As Cold Water.

It’s Only With Great Vulgarity That You Can Achieve Real Refinement, Only Out Of Bawdry That You Can Get Tenderness.

Music Is Only Love Looking For Words.

The National Characteristics... The Restless Metaphysical Curiosity, The Tenderness Of Good Living And The Passionate Individualism. This Is The Invisible Constant In A Place With Which The Ordinary Tourist Can Get In Touch Just By Sitting Quite Quietly Over A Glass Of Wine In A Paris Bistro.