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.

Erich Maria Remarque, "Three Comrades"


The artist is nothing without the gift, but the gift is nothing without work.

Emile Zola

Random topics