Champagne... The Wine Of Kings, The King

Military Men Are The Scourges Of The World.

Our Memory Is A More Perfect World Than The Universe: It Gives Back Life To Those Who No Longer Exist.

To Love Very Much Is To Love Inadequately; We Love-that Is All. Love Cannot Be Modified Without Being Nullified. Love Is A Short Word But It Contains Everything. Love Means The Body, The Soul, The Life, The Entire Being. We Feel Love As We Feel The Warmth Of Our Blood, We Breathe Love As We Breathe The Air, We Hold It In Ourselves As We Hold Our Thoughts. Nothing More Exists For Us. Love Is Not A Word; It Is A Wordless State Indicated By Four Letters.

Broad Daylight Does Not Encourage The Apprehension Of Horror.

I Love The Night Passionately. I Love It As I Love My Country, Or My Mistress, With An Instinctive, Deep, And Unshakeable Love. I Love It With All My Senses: I Love To See It, I Love To Breathe It In, I Love To Open My Ears To Its Silence, I Love My Whole Body To Be Caressed By Its Blackness. Skylarks Sing In The Sunshine, The Blue Sky, The Warm Air, In The Fresh Morning Light. The Owl Flies By Night, A Dark Shadow Passing Through The Darkness; He Hoots His Sinister, Quivering Hoot, As Though He Delights In The Intoxicating Black Immensity Of Space.