I'm Switzerland; neutral as can be, and also with great chocolate.
A golf course outside a big town serves an excellent purpose in that it segregates, as though a concentration camp, all the idle and idiot well-to-do.
In reality, killing time is only the name for another of the multifarious ways by which Time kills us.
Blood is that fragile scarlet tree we carry within us.
The artist, like the idiot or clown, sits on the edge of the world, and a push may send him over it.
The only difference between an artist and a lunatic is, perhaps, that the artist has the restraint or courtesy to conceal the intensity of his obsession from all except those similarly afflicted.
For Poetry is the wisdom of the blood,That scarlet tree within, which has the powerTo make dull words bud forth and burst in flower.
One of the most difficult things to contend with in a hospital is that assumption on the part of the staff that because you have lost your gall bladder you have also lost your mind.
I love you. I'm madly in love with you. Well, madly obviously, given I'm mad as a mudlark. But you saved my life. I'd be dead without you. And you're so good to me. And you love me too. How lucky is that? Amazing! Amazingly lucky. I can't live without you. You're my lucky charm. " She felt a sudden desire to kill Justin's well-meaning friend.
The self does not realize itself most fully when self-realization is its most constant aim.
I get a little itchy if I don't have some control.