The Cynic Is A Coward. He Foresees

The Basis Of Insincerity Is The Idealized Image We Hold Of Ourselves And Wish To Impose On Others.

You Are The Poet, You Walk Inside My Dreams.

[on Paris:] A City Never Entirely Known, Yet Which Gives You The Feeling Of Intimacy, Of Possessing It Intimately.

When One Is Pretending The Entire Body Revolts.

The Richest Source Of Creation Is Feeling, Followed By A Vision Of Its Meaning.