Night breeds its own sort of anticipation.

There are patterns which emerge in one's life, circling and returning anew, an endless variation on a theme. So musicians say the greatest sonatas are composed; whether or not it is true, I do not know, but of a surety I have seen it emerge in the tapestry of my life.

Beauty is at its most poignant when the cold hand of Death holds poised to wither it imminently.

A little truth seasons a lie like salt.

It is not wise to meddle with D'Angelines in matters of love.

There are patterns which emerge in one's life, circling and returning anew, an endless variation of a theme

Nothing spoils idle pleasure like too much awareness