An Improper Mind Is A Perpetual Feast.

All Our Lives We Are Putting Pennies — Our Most Golden Pennies — Into Penny-in-the-slot Machines That Are Almost Always Empty.

What Pursuit Is More Elegant Than That Of Collecting The Ignominies Of Our Nature And Transfixing Them For Show, Each On The Bright Pin Of A Polished Phrase?

Only Those Who Get Into Scrapes With Their Eyes Open Can Find The Safe Way Out.

An Echo Of Music, A Face In The Street, The Wafer Of The New Moon, A Wanton Thought - Only In The Iridescence Of Things The Vagabond Soul Is Happy.

This Nice And Subtle Happiness Of Reading, This Joy Not Chilled By Age, This Polite And Unpunished Vice, This Selfish, Serene Life-long Intoxication.