... it was written I should be loyal to the nightmare of my choice.

She feared the unknown as we all do, and her ignorance made the unknown infinitely vast.

There is something haunting in the light of the moon.

Kisses are the remnants of paradise.

Don't you forget what's divine in the Russian soul and that's resignation.

There is never enough time to say our last word-the last word of our love, of our desire, faith, remorse, submission, revolt.

The vision seemed to enter the house with me-the stretcher, the phantom-bearers, the wild crowd of obedient worshippers, the gloom of the forests, the glitter of the reach between the murky bends, the beat of the drum, regular and muffled like the beating of a heart-the heart of a conquering darkness.