For as lack of adornment is said to become some women, so this subtle oration, though without embellishment, gives delight.
They who know the truth are not equal to those who love it, and they who love it are not equal to those who delight in it.
I did not want to think so much about her. I wanted to take her as an unexpected, delightful gift, that had come and would go again — nothing more. I meant not to give room to the thought that it could ever be more. I knew too well that all love has the desire for eternity and that therein lies its eternal torment. Nothing lasts. Nothing.