Man the sum of what have you. A problem in impure properties carried tediously to an unvarying nil: stalemate of dust and desire.
Man knows so little about his fellows. In his eyes all men or women act upon what he believes would motivate him if he were mad enough to do what that other man or woman is doing.
Love in the young requires as little of hope as of desire to feed upon.
Love and suffering are the same thing and that the value of love is the sum of what you have to pay for it and any time you get it cheap you have cheated yourself.
Life was created in the valleys. It blew up onto the hills on the old terrors, the old lusts, the old despairs. That’s why you must walk up the hills so you can ride down.
Learn us all the refinement and education that there’s a better use for the mouth than running private opinions through it.
Laughter is the yesterday’s slight beard, the negligee among emotions.
Knowing not grieving remembers a thousand savage and lonely streets.
It was too late. Maybe yesterday, while I was still a child, but not now. I knew too much, had seen too much, I was a child no longer now; innocence and childhood were forever lost, forever gone from me.
It isn’t love that dies, it’s the man and the woman.[Also known as:]Love doesn’t die; the men and women do.
It is hard believing to think that a love or a sorrow is a bond purchased without design and which matures willynilly and is recalled without warning to be replaced by whatever issue the gods happen to be floating at the time.
Innocence is innocent not because it rejects but because it accepts; is innocent not because it is impervious and invulnerable to everything, but because it is capable of accepting anything and still remaining innocent; innocent because it foreknows all and therefore doesn’t have to fear and be afraid.
