If a woman hasn't got a tiny streak of harlot in her, she's a dry stick as a rule.
The human consciousness is really homogeneous. There is no complete forgetting, even in death.
Men always do leave off really thinking, when the last bit of wild animal dies in them.
Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically.
Having achieved and accomplished love... man... has become himself, his tale is told.
I like to write when I feel spiteful. It is like having a good sneeze.