With Wine, Poetry, Or Virtue As You

I Love The Clouds... The Clouds That Pass By... Over There... Over There... Those Lovely Clouds!

To Be A Great Man And A Saint To Oneself, That's The Only Important Thing.

Poetry And Progress Are Like Two Ambitious Men Who Hate One Another With An Instinctive Hatred, And When They Meet Upon The Same Road, One Of Them Has To Give Place.

Where Are The Dogs Going? You People Who Pay So Little Attention Ask. They Are Going About Their Business. And They Are Very Punctilious, Without Wallets, Notes, And Without Briefcases.

I Set Out To Discover The Why Of It, And To Transform My Pleasure Into Knowledge.