In America the cohesion was a matter of choice and will. But in Europe it was organic.

I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself

And to my lips' Bright crimson rim The passion slips, And down my slim White body drips The shining hymn.

The human being is a most curious creature. He thinks he has got one soul, and he has got dozens.

Logic might be unanswerable because it was so absolutely wrong.

The true artist doesn't substitute immorality for morality. On the contrary, he always substitutes a finer morality for a grosser one.

Those that go searching for love only make manifest their own lovelessness, and the loveless never find love, only the loving find love, and they never have to seek for it.