You are my inspiration and my folly. You are my light across the sea, my million nameless joys, and my day's wage. You are my divinity, my madness, my selfishness, my transfiguration and purification. You are my rapscallionly fellow vagabond, my tempter and star. I want you.

A tranquil woman can go on sewing longer than an angry man can go on fuming.

I choose not to make a graveyard of my body for the rotting corpses of dead animals.

Dancing is a perpendicular expression of a horizontal desire.

Make me a beautiful word for doing things tomorrow; for that surely is a great and blessed invention.

History, sir, will tell lies as usual.

Decency is indecency's conspiracy of silence