“Liebchen, with whom should I quarrel except in the hiss of love, that harsh, irregular flame? Stanley Kunitz
“[The art of the novel] happens because the storyteller’s own experience of men and things, whether for good or ill—not only what he has passed through himself, but even events which he has only witnessed or been told of—has moved him to an emotion so passionate that he can no longer keep it shut up in his heart.Murasaki Shikibu
“I loved you, so I drew these tides of men into my hands and wrote my will across the sky in stars. To earn you Freedom, the seven-pillared worthy house, that your eyes might be shining for me When we came. T. E. Lawrence