No love-story has ever been told twice. I never heard any tale of lovers that did not seem to me as new as the world on its first morning.

Cats sleep Anywhere, Any table, Any chair, Top of piano, Window-ledge, In the middle, On the edge.

The events of childhood do not pass but repeat themselves like seasons of the year.

It seems to me there are no rules, only instances; but perhaps that is because I learned no rules, and am only an instance myself.

On Hallowe'en the old ghosts come about us, and they speak to some; to others they are dumb.

Upon your shattered ruins where, This vine will flourish still, as rare, As fresh, as fragrant as of old. Love will not crumble.

And he loved her, both for her fault and her redemption of it, more than he had ever thought that he could love her; for he had believed that in their kiss love had reached its uttermost. But love has no uttermost, as the stars have no number and the sea no rest.