Sexual love is the most stupendous fact of the universe, and the most magical mystery our poor blind senses know.
Happiness, to some, is elation; to others it is mere stagnation.
Hate is ravening vulture beaks descending on a place of skulls.
Youth condemns; maturity condones
Happiness, to some, elation; Is, to others, mere stagnation.
Happiness: We rarely feel it. I would buy it, beg it, steal it, Pay in coins of dripping blood For this one transcendent good.