With the pride of the artist, you must blow against the walls of every power that exists the small trumpet of your defiance.
So you come soon to power, but you have merely inherited the crisis and yours is the profit of cancer.
With the pride of an artist, you must blow against the walls of every power that exists, the small trumpet of your defiance.
I never saw love as luck, as that gift from the gods which put everything else in place, and allowed you to succeed. No, I saw love as reward. One could find it only after one's virtue, or one's courage, or self-sacrifice, or generosity, or loss, has succeeded in stirring the power of creation.