The journey of love has been rather a lacerating, if well-worth-it, journey.

They say the sea is cold, but the sea contains the hottest blood of all, and the wildest, the most urgent.

If you believe in your own sex, and won't have it done dirt to: they'll down you. It's the one insane taboo left: sex as a naturaland vital thing.

What sex is, we don't know, but it must be some sort of fire. For it always communicates a sense of warmth, of glow. And when this glow becomes a pure shine, then we feel the sense of beauty. We all have the fire of sex slumbering or burning inside us. If we live to be ninety, it is still there. Or, if it dies, we become one of those ghastly living corpses which are unfortunately becoming more numerous in the world.

The map appears to us more real than the land.

They say geniuses mostly have great mothers. They mostly have sad fates.

Loud peace propaganda makes war seem imminent.