There are lives lived for love, and lives lived for art. We, happy band, have chosen the later persuasion.

A monster lies in wait in me,a stew of wounds and misery.But fiercer still in life and limb,the me that lies in wait in him

There’s no conscious thing on the face of the world that doesn’t know dread more intimately than its own heartbeat.

Angels have very nasty tempers. Especially when they’re feeling righteous.

And in time it will be as though men had never come to this perfect corner of the world-never called it paradise on earth, never despoiled it with their dream factories; and in the golden hush of the afternoon all that will be heard will be the flittering of dragonflies, and the murmur of hummingbirds as they pass from bower to bower, looking for a place to sup sweetness.

We always think we are right, and - search as I have - there is no evil under the sun that somebody somewhere won't argue is actually a good, no idiocy that hasn't got its perfectly serious defenders, and no tyrant, past or present - no matter how bloody - without some bunch of zealot schmucks to defend him or his reputation till the last breath in their bodies - or preferably somebody else's.

You'll learn, honey. Love can be the best thing in life. And it can be the worst. The absolute worst.