Art is the stored honey of the human soul, gathered on wings of misery and travail.

I believe in the compelling power of love. I do not understand it. I believe it to be the most fragrant blossom of all this thorny existence.

I believe in the compelling power of love. I do not understand it. I believe it to be the most fragrant blossom of all this thorny existence.

In order to have wisdom we must have ignorance.