“Lies About LoveWe are all liars, becauseThe truth of yesterdaybecomes a lie tomorrow,Whereas letters are fixed,and we live by the letter of truth.The love I feel for my friend, this year,is different from the love I felt last year.If it were not so, it would be a lie.Yet we reiterate love! love! love!as if it were a coin with fixed valueinstead of a flower that dies, and opens a different bud.”

“You're always begging things to love you," he said, "as if you were a beggar for love. Even the flowers, you have to fawn on them--”

“Life and love are life and love, a bunch of violets is a bunch of violets, and to drag in the idea of a point is to ruin everything. Live and let live, love and let love, flower and fade, and follow the natural curve, which flows on, pointless.”

“But she would wake in the morning one day and feel her blood running, feel herself lying open like a flower unsheathed in the sun, insistent and potent with demand.”

“My God, these folks don't know how to love -- that's why they love so easily.”

“Oh, what a catastrophe, what a maiming of love when it was made personal, merely personal feeling. This is what is the matter with us: we are bleeding at the roots because we are cut off from the earth and sun and stars. Love has become a grinning mockery because, poor blossom, we plucked it from its stem on the Tree of Life and expected it to keep on blooming in our civilized vase on the table.”

“For my part, I prefer my heart to be broken. It is so lovely, dawn-kaleidoscopic within the crack.”