Oh, I can see it happening, age after age, and growing worse the more you reveal your beauty: the son turning his back on the mother and the bride on her groom, stolen away by this everlasting calling, calling, calling of the gods. Taken where we can't follow. It would be far better for us if you were foul and ravening. We'd rather you drank their blood than stole their hearts. We'd rather they were ours and dead than yours and made immortal.

Though we cannot experience our life as an endless present, we are eternal in God's eyes; that is, in our deepest reality.

Friends are like coals in a fire - together, they glow; apart, they grow cold.

I willingly believe that the damned are, in one sense, successful, rebels to the end; that the doors of hell are locked on the inside.

Every joy is beyond all others.

The only people who hate escapism are jailers.

We were promised sufferings. They were part of the program. We were even told, 'Blessed are they that mourn,' and I accept it. I've got nothing that I hadn't bargained for. Of course it is different when the thing happens to oneself, not to others, and in reality, not imagination.