Astronomy Taught Us Our Insignificance In Nature.

New York Is A Sucked Orange.

The Love Of Novels Is The Preference Of Sentiment To The Senses.

Profound Sincerity Is The Only Basis Of Talent As Of Character.

There Is Hope In Extravagance, There Is None In Routine.

The Preamble Of Thought, The Transition Through Which It Passes From The Unconscious To The Conscious, Is Action. Only So Much Do I Know, As I Have Lived. Instantly We Know Whose Words Are Loaded With Life, And Whose Not.