Champagne... The Wine Of Kings, The King

The Public Is Composed Of Numerous Groups Whose Cry To Us Writers Is: 'comfort Me.' 'amuse Me.' 'touch My Sympathies.' 'make Me Sad.' 'make Me Dream.' 'make Me Laugh.' 'make Me Shiver.' 'make Me Weep.' 'make Me Think.'

In Fact Living Is Dying.

Conversation. What Is It? A Mystery! It's The Art Of Never Seeming Bored, Of Touching Everything With Interest, Of Pleasing With Trifles, Of Being Fascinating With Nothing At All.

Solitude Is Indeed Dangerous For A Working Intelligence. We Need To Have Around Us People Who Think And Speak. When We Are Alone For A Long Time We People The Void With Phantoms

Love Is Always Love, Come Whence It May. A Heart That Beats At Your Approach, An Eye That Weeps When You Go Away Are Things So Rare, So Sweet, So Precious That They Must Never Be Despised.