A hope fulfilled is already half a disappointment.

For the truth may run fine but will not break$$$ and always rises above falsehood as oil above water.

The man who fights for his ideals is the man who is alive.

In the shadow of feigned cripples and false wounds come the strong arms of thieves and very healthy drunkards.

Art does not surpass nature but perfects it.

Anything will give up it's secrets if you love it enough.

Love is the synthesis of dream and actuality; love is the only matrix of the unprecedented; love is the tree which buds lovers like roses.

Life$$$ what is it but a dream?

Birds of a feather flock together.

Be sure the safest rule is that we should not dare to live in any scene in which we dare not die.