Any object, intensely regarded, may be a gate of access to the incorruptible eons of the gods.
A corpse is meat gone bad. Well and what's cheese? Corpse of milk.
People trample over flowers, yet only to embrace a cactus.
He could not feel her near him in the darkness nor hear her voice touch his ear. He waited for some minutes listening. He could hear nothing: the night was perfectly silent. He listened again: perfectly silent. He felt that he was alone.
It is as painful perhaps to be awakened from a vision as to be born.
Gentle lady, do not sing Sad songs about the end of love; Lay aside sadness and sing How love that passes is enough. Sing about the long deep sleep Of lovers that are dead, and how In the grave all love shall sleep: Love is aweary now.