If a man loved me, I would have talked myself into loving him, and I would have loved him very deeply after a while.

She said, "I will go no farther." "There is no choice. We can only go on." The magician said again. "We can only go on.

...but the enchantment of error that you put on me I must wear forever in your eyes.

I know how to live here, I know how everything smells, and tastes, and is. What could I ever search for in the world, except this again?

Love was generous precisely because it could never be immortal.

We are not always what we seem, and hardly ever what we dream.

You pile of stones, you waste, you desolation, I'll stuff you with misery till it comes out of your eyes. I'll change your heart into green grass, and all you love into a sheep. I'll turn you into a bad poet with dreams.