Nothing Creates Such Untruth In You As

Sometimes, Surely, Truth Is Closer To Imagination Or To Intelligence, To Love Than To Fact? To Be Accurate Is Not To Be Right.

I Never Had, Or Wished For, Power Over You. That Isn't True, Of Course. I Wanted The Greatest Power Of All. But Not Advantage, Or Authority.

One Would Always Want To Think Of Oneself As Being On The Side Of Love, Ready To Recognize It And Wish It Well -but, When Confronted With It In Others, One So Often Resented It, Questioned Its True Nature, Secretly Dismissed The Particular Instance As Folly Or Promiscuity. Was It Merely Jealousy, Or A Reluctance To Admit So Noble And Enviable A Sentiment In Anyone But Oneself?

The Sweetness That All Longed For Night And Day. Some Tragedy Might Be Idly Guessed At-loss Or Illness. She Had The Luminosity Of Those About To Die.

... One Doesn't Really Profit From Experience; One Merely Learns To Predict The Next Mistake.