One is always at home in one's past.

I loved you. I was a pentapod monster, but I loved you. I was despicable and brutal, and turpid, and everything, mais je t’aimais, je t’aimais!

Beauty plus pity -- that is the closest we can get to a definition of art.

As to the rest, I am no more guilty of imitating 'real life' than'real life' is responsible for plagiarizing me.

Resemblances are the shadows of differences. Different people see different similarities and similar differences.

All my stories are webs of style and none seems at first blush to contain much kinetic matter.

Caress the detail, the divine detail.