Lord, Bend Me, Or I Shall Rot.

You Have Your Brush, You Have Your Colors, You Paint The Paradise, Then In You Go.

God, What Is All This Talk Put Out By The Popes? Paradise Is Here, My Good Man. God, Give Me No Other Paradise!

My Principle Anguish And The Source Of All My Joys And Sorrows From My Youth Onward Has Been The Incessant, Merciless Battle Between The Spirit And The Flesh.

The Highest Point A Man Can Attain Is Not Knowledge, Or Virtue, Or Goodness, Or Victory, But Something Even Greater, More Heroic And More Despairing: Sacred Awe!

So Few In Reality Are The True Necessities Of Man