There Is A Point Of No Return,

Eternity Is Said Not To Be An Extension Of Time But An Absence Of Time, And Sometimes It Seemed To Me That Her Abandonment Touched That Strange Mathematical Point Of Endlessness, A Point With No Width, Occupying No Space.

And When We Love Our Sin Then We Are Damned Indeed.

Like The Characters In Chekhov, They Have No Reserves -– You Learn The Most Intimate Secrets. You Get An Impression Of A World Peopled By Eccentrics, Of Odd Professions, Almost Incredible Stupidities, And, To Balance Them, Amazing Endurances.

Thought's A Luxury. Do You Think The Peasant Sits And Thinks Of God And Democracy When He Gets Inside His Mud Hut At Night?

Lust Is Not The Worst Thing. It Is Because Any Day, Any Time, Lust May Turn Into Love That We Have To Avoid It. And When We Love Our Sin Then We Are Damned Indeed.