Even now I cannot help feeling that it is a mistake to think that the passion one feels in creation is ever really shown in the work one creates.
I delight in men over seventy. They always offer one the devotion of a lifetime.
We are specially designed to appeal to the sense of humour.
One can always be kind to people about whom one cares nothing.
Men are such cowards. They outrage every law in the world and are afraid of the world's tongue.
And her sweet red lips on these lips of mine Burned like the ruby fire set In the swinging lamp of a crimson shrine, Or the bleeding wounds of the pomegranate, Or the heart of the lotus drenched and wet With the spilt-out blood of the rose-red wine.