Heiresses are never jilted.
The season of love is the carnival of egoism and it brings a touchstone to our natures.
Woman's reason is in the milk of her breasts.
Earth knows no desolation. She smells regeneration in the moist breath of decay.
A house with a great wine stored below lives in our imagination as a joyful house, fast and splendidly rooted in the soil.
The most dire disaster in love is the death of imagination.