Even great men are only truly recognized and honored once they are dead. Why? Because those who praise them need to feel themselves somehow superior to the person praised, they need to feel they are making some concession.

Whether she won or lost, she would continue to wrestle with life. It would not be with her own life alone but with all of life. Something had finally been released within her. And there it was, the sea.

Love is now, is always. All that is missing is the coup de grâce- which is called passion.

Everything in the world began with a yes. One molecule said yes to another molecule and life was born.

In the world there exists no aesthetic plane, not even the aesthetic plane of goodness.

I write to save someone's life, probably my own

Things were somehow so good that they were in danger of becoming very bad because what is fully mature is very close to rotting