“What a transfiguration it is to love! And the little shrieks, the pursuits in the grass, the waists encircled by stealth, the jargon that is melody, the adoration that breaks through in the way a syllable is said, those cherries snatched form one pair of lips by another - It all catches fire and turns into celestial glories.”
“All forms that perish other forms supply,(By turns we catch the vital breath and die)Like bubbles on the sea of matter borne,They rise, they break, and to that sea return.”
“I’ll catch fire, turn to ash and re-form... I’ll be stronger... and you’ll be forever mine.”
“What happened between those two beings? Nothing. They were adoring one another.”
“I am tired and sick of war. Its glory is all moonshine. It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded who cry aloud for blood, for vengeance, for desolation. War is hell.”
“Home! That was what they meant, those caressing appeals, Those soft touches wafted through the air, those invisible little hands pulling and tugging, all one way.”