“What binds a wife to her husband is neither magic, nor a priest, nor love! What makes this possible is only silver coins! A woman’s heart is like a candle, my friend. As long as the money wick keeps burning, her heart stays warm. But when the wick burns down, her love is extinguished!”

“the only unfailing guide I’ve ever found through the innumerable blind alleys of my life as a writer, man, husband, father, citizen, steward, or believer, is the love burning in my heart. for me, prayer is about one thing: making contact with that love. though it burns in there like a candle flame, hot, bright, beautiful, love’s flame is so fragile… keeping one’s love burning, and living in accord with that burning: this, to me, is prayer.”

“My body is but wax and wick for flame. When the candle burns out, the light shines elsewhere.”

“Burn, burn burn -- burn your wicked garden down ... Burn, burn burn -- burn your wicked garden to the ground ”

“By my soul, I can neither eat, drink, nor sleep; nor, what's still worse, love any woman in the world but her.”

“There is no such thing as an artist: there is only the world lit or unlit as the light allows. When the candle is burning, who looks at the wick? When the candle is out, who needs it?”