All great novels are great fairy tales.

I am not, and never was, and never could have been, a brutal scoundrel.

The future is but the obsolete in reverse.

Nostalgia in reverse, the longing for yet another strange land, grew especially strong in spring.

A change of environment is the traditional fallacy upon which doomed loves, and lungs, rely.

I have no desires, save the desire to express myself in defiance of all the world’s muteness.

And the rest is rust and stardust.