To love without criticism is to be betrayed.
A man's sorrow runs uphill; true it is difficult for him to bear, but it is also difficult for him to keep.
Our bones ache only while the flesh is on them.
A man is whole only when he takes into account his shadow.
There's something evil in me that loves evil and degradation--purity's black backside! That loves honesty with a horrid love; or why have I always gone seeking it at the liar's door?
Una's face was an unbroken block of calculation, saving where, upon her upper lip, a little down of hair fluttered. Yet it gave one an uncanny feeling. It made one think of a tassel on a hammer.