The Americans, like the English, probably make love worse than any other race.
This face is a dog's snout sniffing for garbage, snakes nest in that mouth, I hear the sibilant threat.
To speak in literature with the perfect rectitude and insouciance of the movements of animals and the unimpeachable of the sentiment of trees in the woods and grass by the roadside is the flawless triumph of art.
A woman waits for me, she contains all, nothing lacking.
I swear to you, there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell
All truths wait in all things.