The bad blood rose in me, just like wine.

I've given up reading the papers. Since the world's so obviously bent on killing itself, I decided months ago to sit back and let it.

How will a person know, Selina, when the soul that has the affinity with hers is near it?" She answered, "She will know. Does she look for air, before she breathes it? This love will be guided to her; and when it comes, she will know. And she will do anything to keep that love about her, then. Because to lose it will be like a death to her.

I never expected my books to do even as well as they have. I still feel grateful for it, every single day.

Why is it we can never love the people we ought to?

We have a name for your disease. We call it a hyper-aesthetic one. You have been encouraged to over-indulge yourself in literature; and have inflamed your organs of fancy.

I barely knew I had skin before I met you.