To remember love after long sleep; to turn again to poetry after a year in the market place, or to youth after resignation to drowsy and stiffening age; to remember what once you thought life could hold, after telling over with muddied and calculating fingers what it has offered; this is music, made after long silence. The soul flexes its wings, and, clumsy as any fledgling, tries the air again

The gods only go with you if you put yourself in their path. And that takes courage.

It is not true that women cannot keep secrets. Where they love, they can be trusted to death and beyond, against all sense and reason. It is their weakness, and their great strength.

Well, what was luck for if it was never to be tempted?

Every man carries the seed of his own death, and you will not be more than a man. You will have everything; you cannot have more.

It does not do to neglect the gods of a place, whoever they may be. In the end, they are all one.

The sense of smell is the hair-trigger of memory.