People Only See In Us The Contemptible

The Realisation Of One's Own Death Is The Point At Which One Becomes Adult.

No One Can Go On Being A Rebel Too Long Without Turning Into An Autocrat.

How Grudging Memory Is, And How Bitterly She Clutches The Raw Material Of Her Daily Work.

The Loved Object Is Simply One That Has Shared An Experience At The Same Moment Of Time, Narcissistically; And The Desire To Be Near The Beloved Object Is At First Not Due To The Idea Of Possessing It, But Simply To Let The Two Experiences Compare Themselves, Like Reflections In Different Mirrors. All This May Precede The First Look, Kiss, Or Touch; Precede Ambition, Pride, Or Envy; Precede The First Declarations Which Mark The Turning Point—for From Here Love Degenerates Into Habit, Possession, And Back To Loneliness.

They Flower Spontaneously Out Of The Demands Of Our Natures - And The Best Of Them Lead Us Not Only Outward In Space, But Inward As Well.