I Go About The World, Hand Outstretched,

The Walls Are The Publishers Of The Poor.

Scientists Say That Human Beings Are Made Of Atoms, But A Little Bird Told Me That We Are Also Made Of Stories

Utopia Lies At The Horizon. When I Draw Nearer By Two Steps, It Retreats Two Steps. If I Proceed Ten Steps Forward, It Swiftly Slips Ten Steps Ahead. No Matter How Far I Go, I Can Never Reach It. What, Then, Is The Purpose Of Utopia? It Is To Cause Us To Advance.

We Are What We Do, Especially What We Do To Change What We Are.

Chaplin And Keaton Are Still The Best. They Know That There Is Nothing More Serious Than Laughter, An Art Demanding Infinite Work, And That As Long As The World Revolves, Making Others Laugh Is The Most Splendid Of Activities.