Life is too short for grief. Or regret. Or bullshit.
The scent of wine, oh how much more agreeable, laughing, praying, celestial and delicious it is than that of oil!
I drink eternally. For me it is an eternity of drinking, and a drinking up of eternity.
I build only living stones--men.
Machination is worth more than force.
Friends, you will notice that in this world there are many more ballocks than men. Remember this.
No clock is more regular than the belly.
Having abandoned the taking of life, refraining from killing, we dwell without violence, with the knife laid down, scrupulous, full of mercy, trembling with compassion for all sentient beings.
We are born subjects, and to obey God is perfect liberty. He that does this shall be free, safe and happy.
There's that old cliché which has a lot of basis in truth, that all music journalists are failed rock stars. They all harbour the inner feeling they should be up under the spotlight and the microphone is there for them.
What I cannot follow are the manic-depressive fluctuations from total control to no control, from the serialization of all elements to chance.