Nostalgia in reverse, the longing for yet another strange land, grew especially strong in spring.
My loathings are simple: stupidity, oppression, crime, cruelty, soft music.
…She was, obviously, one of those women whose polished words may reflect a book club or bridge club, or any other deadly conventionality, but never her soul.
It is a short walk from the hallelujah to the hoot.
Our imagination flies -- we are its shadow on the earth.
The contemplation of beauty, whether it be a uniquely tinted sunset, a radiant face, or a work of art, makes us glance back unwittingly at our personal past and juxtapose ourselves and our inner being with the utterly unattainable beauty revealed to us.