Memory Is A Great Betrayer.

I Am In Great Terror Of Your Understanding By Which You Penetrate Into My World; And Then I Stand Revealed And I Have Shared My Kingdom With You.

Love Never Dies A Natural Death. It Dies Because We Don't Know How To Replenish Its Source.

Many Couples, Many People, Are Not Living With Real Human Beings, But With Their Ghosts. Who Has Not Followed For Years The Spell Of A Particular Tone Of Voice, From Voice To Voice, As The Fetishist Follows A Beautiful Foot, Scarcely Seeing The Woman Herself? A Voice, A Mouth, An Eye, All Stemming From The Original Fountain Of Our First Desire, Directing It, Enslaving Us, Until We Choose To Unravel The Fatal Web And Free Ourselves.

The Bed Must Be A Beautiful Place, Not Only Because You Make Love There But Because You Dream There As Well.

The City Was Asleep On Its Right Side And Shaking With Violent Nightmares. Long Puffs Of Snoring Came Out Of The Chimneys. Its Feet Were Sticking Out Because The Clouds Did Not Cover It Altogether. There Was A Hole In Them And The White Feathers Were Falling Out. The City Had Untied All Its Bridges Like So Many Buttons To Feel At Ease. Wherever There Was A Lamplight The City Scratched Itself Until It Went Out.