Some people are molded by their admirations, others by their hostilities.
The wish to lead out one's lover must be a tribal feeling; the wish to be seen as loved is part of one's self-respect.
Plot is the knowing of destination.
Art is one thing that can go on mattering once it has stopped hurting.
Pity the selfishness of lovers: it is brief, a forlorn hope; it is impossible.
whenever possible I avoid talking. Reprieve from talking is my idea of a holiday. At risk of seeming unsociable, which I am, I admit I love to be left in a beatific trance, when I am in one. Friendly Romans recognize that wish.