You, the strong, have I loved, though the marks of your iron hoofs are yet upon my flesh.
Women opened the windows of my eyes and the doors of my spirit. Had it not been for the woman-mother, the woman-sister, and the woman-friend, I would have been sleeping among those who seek the tranquility of the world with their snoring.
The giving and receiving of pleasure is a need and an ecstasy.
Love that is cleansed by tears will remain eternally pure and beautiful.
Do not fear the thorns in your path, for they draw only corrupt blood.
Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon your reason and your judgment wage war against your passion and your appetite.