It looks like the whole city is made out of stars.

I like to imagine that the world is one big machine. You know, machines never have any extra parts. They have the exact number and type of parts they need. So I figure if the entire world is a big machine, I have to be here for some reason. And that means you have to be here for some reason, too.

To what end, he wondered, had the Divine created the stars in heaven to fill a man with feelings of inspiration one day and insignificance the next?

Paris is a beautiful city.

Paris is a beautiful city.

She's a real inspiration. It is such a private thing. You wonder how far to go with it. I guess it depends on who you are.