There is a reason why all things are as they are.

There was a deliberate voluptuousness that was both thrilling and repulsive. And as she arched her neck she actually licked her lips like an animal till I could see in the moonlight the moisture Then lapped the white, sharp teeth. Lower and lower went her head. I closed my eyes in a languorous ecstasy and waited.

She was young and very beautiful, but pale, like the grey pallor of death.

A brave man's hand can speak for itself, it does not even need a woman's love to hear its music.

But a stranger in a strange land, he is no one. Men know him not, and to know not is to care not for.

Love is, after all, a selfish thing; and it throws a black shadow on anything between which and the light it stands.

No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be.