You know you're in love when you stop comparing.

The harp is an insipid instrument--no good for dancing, feasting, or marching, only for sitting primly in a parlor or on a cloud.

Laughter scares off lust.

I know that I am very much like everybody else, but not really.

In the great cities, winter glitters with art and feasting. But poetry, the country cousin, sees only the dearth of the fields.

The beginning of self-knowledge: recognizing that your motives are the same as other people's.

Sign at the orgy: BODIES ONLY.