Here we stop. Upon the threshold of wedding nights stands an angel smiling, his finger on his lip.

by making himself a priest made himself a demon.

The realities of life do not allow themselves to be forgotten.

He had not yet lived long enough to have discovered that nothing is more close at hand then the impossible, and that what must be looked for is always the unforeseen.

Be as a bird perched on a frail branch that she feels bending beneath her, still she sings away all the same, knowing she has wings.

Men like me are impossible until the day when they become necessary.

There are no rules for felicity.