Hope is a straw hat hanging beside a window covered with frost.

In my experience, there are two things that no one will admit to: having no sense of humor and being susceptible to flattery.

Defeat I can endure with cheerfulness, my lady. But betrayal is like taking the wind from my sails, or the earth from beneath my feet. It chills my spirits like a rainy day, and all I can do is draw the curtains and cry into my pillow.

Boredom is that awful state of inaction when the very medicine - that is, activity - which could solve it, is seen as odious.

Yet we always envy others, comparing our shadows to their sunlit sides.

The cure for a broken heart is simple, my lady. A hot bath and a good night's sleep.

Lying in bed, half-covered by the blankets, I would drowsily ask why he had come to my door that night long ago. It had become a ritual for us, as it does for all lovers: where, when, why? remember...I understand even old people rehearse their private religion of how they first loved, most guarded of secrets. And he would answer, sleep blurring his words, "Because I had to." The question and the answer were always the same. Why? Because I had to.