Without charm there can be no fine literature, as there can be no perfect flower without fragrance.

A realist, in Venice, would become a romantic by mere faithfulness to what he saw before him.

The desert of virginity Aches in the hotness of her mouth.

My soul is like this cloudy, flaming opal ring.

The clamours of spring are the same old delicate noises, The earth renews its magical youth at a breath.

Vaguely conscious of that great suspense in which we live, we find our escape from its sterile, annihilating reality in many dreams, in religion, passion, art.

As perfume doth remain In the folds where it hath lain, So the thought of you, remaining Deeply folded in my brain, Will not leave me: all things leave me: You remain.

The wind is rising on the sea,The windy white foam-dancers leap;And the sea moans uneasily,And turns to sleep, and cannot sleep.

The English mist is always at work like a subtle painter, and London is a vast canvas prepared for the mist to work on.

To have loved, to have been made happy thus, / What better fate has life in store for us?

I had my dreams of Venice, but nothing that I had dreamed was as impossible as what I found.

Lord save us all from ... a hope tree that has lost the faculty of putting out blossoms.

We either misdirect or depress great amounts of energy in order to keep ourselves from feeling pain, including what we feel in the moment and being who we are in the moment.

I do know that when I look around in show business, I see a lot of people who were in my drama class in high school.

A bad act done will fester and create in its own way. It's not only goodness that creates. Bad things create. They have their own yeast.

Maybe...you'll fall in love with me all over again." "Hell," I said, "I love you enough now. What do you want to do? Ruin me?" "Yes. I want to ruin you." "Good," I said. "That's what I want too.

Self-projection is, more often than not, the move of the minor craftsman, of the tactics of the hour whose inherent weakness is, precisely, that of originality.

This magnificent butterfly finds a little heap of dirt and sits still on it; but man will never on his heap of mud keep still.

The Constitution of the United States is not a mere lawyers' document; it is a vehicle of life, and its spirit is always the spirit of the age.

There is something servile in the habit of seeking after a law which we must obey.