... And The Very Folds Of The

We Efface An Hour By Passionate Love, Without Twists, Without Aftertaste. When It Is Finished, It Is Not Finished, We Lie Still In Each Other's Arms Lulled By Our Love, By Tenderness -- Sensuality In Which The Whole Being Can Participate.

Idealism Is The Death Of The Body And The Imagination. All But Freedom, Utter Freedom, Is Death

Tropical Nights Are Hammocks For Lovers.

I, With A Deeper Instinct, Choose A Man Who Compels My Strength, Who Makes Enormous Demands On Me, Who Does Not Doubt My Courage Or My Toughness, Who Does Not Believe Me Naive Or Innocent, Who Has The Courage To Treat Me Like A Woman.

The Love Of Only One Man Or One Woman Is An Enclosure.