Where the myth fails, human love begins. Then we love a human being, not our dream, but a human being with flaws.

I must be a mermaid, Rango. I have no fear of depths and a great fear of shallow living.

There are books which we read early in life, which sink into our consciousness and seem to disappear without leaving a trace. And then one day we find, in some summing-up of our life and put attitudes towards experience, that their influence has been enormous.

To love and to labor is the sum of living.

We don't see things as they are, we see them as we ... believe me naïve or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman.

But I lie. I embellish. My words are not deep enough. They disguise, they conceal. I will not rest until I have told of my descent into a sensuality which was as dark, as magnificent, as wild, as my moments of mystic creation have been dazzling, ecstatic, exalted.

Travel is seeking the lost paradise. It is the supreme illusion of love.