I love three things," I then say. "I love a dream of love I once had, I love you, and I love this patch of earth." "And which do you love best?" "The dream.
When good befalls a man he calls it Providence, when evil fate.
Love is every bit as violent and dangerous as murder.
I stood in the lee of an overhanging rock and thought of many things.
There was a rock in front of my hut, a tall, gray rock. By its looks it seemed to be well-disposed toward me.
Were I more conversant with literature and its great names, I could go on quoting them ad infinitum and acknowledge my debt for the merit you have been generous enough to find in my work