Of all cursed places under the sun, where the hungriest soul can hardl >>
There was never a great man who had not a great mother. >>
Now we have no God. We have had two: the old God that our fathers hand >>
People who are sensible about love are incapable of it. >>
The only victory over love is flight. >>
One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life; that word is lov >>
Perhaps the old monks were right when they tried to root love out; perhaps the poets are right when they try to water it. It is a blood-red flower, with the color of sin; but there is always the scent of a god about it.