The 'frankness' of people sunk below shame is a very cheap frankness.

Of course language is not an infallible guide, but it contains, with all its defects, a good deal of stored insight and experience.

Sexual appetite, like any other appetite, grows by indulgence

Love, in its own nature, demands the perfecting of the beloved.

Did I hate him, then? Indeed, I believe so. A love like that can grow to be nine-tenths hatred and still call itself love.

I don't want to hold you hand!

While we are actually subjected to them, the 'moods' and 'spirits' of nature point no morals. Overwhelming gaiety, insupportable grandeur, sombre desolation are flung at you. Make what you can of them, if you must make at all. The only imperative that nature utters is, 'Look. Listen. Attend.