And taking her friend’s hand, she put it on her breast, on that firm round covering of a woman’s heart which the male often finds so satisfying that he makes no attempt to find what lies beneath it.

Our memory is a more perfect world than the universe: it gives back life to those who no longer exist.

We breathe love as we breathe air; we hold it in ourselves as we hold our thoughts. Nothing more exists for us.

A sick thought can devour the body's flesh more than fever or consumption.

In fact living is dying.

breathing, sleeping, drinking, eating, working, dreaming, everything we do is dying. to live, in fact, is to die.

The kiss itself is immortal. It travels from lip to lip, century to century, from age to age. Men and women garner these kisses, offer them to others and then die in turn.