I was always going to the bookcase for another sip of the divine specific.

Sir, I would trust you with my heart. Moreover, we have left our bodies in the banqueting hall. Those on the turf are the shadows of our souls.

So fine was the morning except for a streak of wind here and there that the sea and sky looked all one fabric, as if sails were stuck high up in the sky, or the clouds had dropped down into the sea.

The flower bloomed and faded. The sun rose and sank. The lover loved and went. And what the poets said in rhyme, the young translated into practice.

Love, the poet said, is woman's whole existence.

It is useless to read Greek in translation; translators can but offer us a vague equivalent.

I feel that by writing I am doing what is far more necessary than anything else.