I Refuse To Imprison Our Acts In

One Travels To Run Away From Routine, That Dreadful Routine That Kills All Imagination And All Our Capacity For Enthusiasm.

The State Of Minds Vary According To The Angle Under Which One Examines Them.

Happiness Is The Intoxication Produced By The Moment Of Poise Between A Satisfactory Past And An Immediate Future, Rich With Promise.

Only When One Is Able To Grasp Wideness Can One Possess It.

The Wideness Of The Horizon Has To Be Inside Us, Cannot Be Anywhere But Inside Us, Otherwise What We Speak About Is Geographic Distances.