and realized that death was not only a permanent probability, as he had always believed, but an immediate reality.

Let me stay here," he said. "There was soap.

It was a love of perpetual flight.

It was as if they had leapt over the arduous cavalry of conjugal life and gone straight to the heart of love. They were together in silence like an old married couple wary of life, beyond the pitfalls of passion, beyond the brutal mockery of hope and the phantoms of disillusion: beyond love. For they had lived together long enough to know that love was always love, anytime and anyplace, but it was more solid the closer it came to death.

There [is] no innocence more dangerous than the innocence of age.

He is ugly and sad, but he is all love.

He who awaits much can expect little.