A City Becomes A World When One

Who Invented The Human Heart, I Wonder? Tell Me, And Then Show Me The Place Where He Was Hanged.

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.

The Richest Love Is That Which Submits To The Arbitration Of Time.

An Idea Is Like A Rare Bird Which Cannot Be Seen. What One Sees Is The Trembling Of The Branch It Has Just Left.

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.