Oh, what a catastrophe, what a maiming of love when it was made personal, merely personal feeling. This is what is the matter with us: we are bleeding at the roots because we are cut off from the earth and sun and stars. Love has become a grinning mockery because, poor blossom, we plucked it from its stem on the Tree of Life and expected it to keep on blooming in our civilized vase on the table.

An illusion which is a real experience is worth having.

If a woman hasn't got a tiny streak of harlot in her, she's a dry stick as a rule.

When one jumps over the edge, one is bound to land somewhere.

I hold that the parentheses are by far the most important parts of a non-business letter.

there is no pornography without a secrecy.

No man is a man unless to his woman he is a pioneer.