If everything had a label, we would live in a fully delineated but false world.
Unconditional love is a lofty ideal, but unconditional hate is a fact well documented by history.
New York loves itself in an unkind and fanatical way.
Either offer me something I really like, or stop trying to tempt me.
I reject all evidence that my fabulous beloved is an ordinary person who worries, watches TV, and has bouts of indigestion.
Sacred texts always offend reason.