True beauty is something that attacks, overpowers, robs, and finally destroys.

Quite possibly, what I call happiness may coincide with what others call the moment of imminent danger

At no time are we ever in such complete possession of a journey, down to its last nook and cranny, as when we are busy with preparations for it. After that, there remains only the journey itself, which is nothing but the process through which we lose our ownership of it.

His conviction of having no purpose in life other than to act as a distillation of poison was part of the ego of an eighteen-year-old. He had resolved that his beautiful white hands would never be soiled or calloused. He wanted to be like a pennant, dependent on each gusting wind. The only thing that seemed valid to him was to live for the emotions--gratuitous and unstable, dying only to quicken again, dwindling and flaring without direction or purpose.

As long as you know I am waiting, take your time flowers of the spring.

We live in an age in which there is no heroic death.

Actually the action called a kiss represented nothing more for me than some place where my spirit could seek shelter.