People taking photographs of their meals are not critics; they are from the United States.

Love itself is what is left over when being "in love" has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.

Love delayed is lust augmented.

It seems that everyone has their own inexplicable fear to have nightmares about. We need nightmares to keep ourselves entertained, and fend off the contentment that we all fear and abhor so much.

The human heart likes a little disorder in its geometry.

Beauty is precious, you see, and the more beautiful something is, the more precious it is; and the more precious it is the more it hurts us that it will fade away; and the more we are hurt by beauty, the more we love the world.

The garden where you sit Has never a need of flowers, For you are the blossoms And only a fool or the blind Would fail to know it