A kiss can be a comma, a question mark or an exclamation point. That's basic spelling that every woman ought read more

A kiss can be a comma, a question mark or an exclamation point. That's basic spelling that every woman ought to know.

Mortal love is when sensuality is satisfied. True love is when love is sacrificed.

Mortal love is when sensuality is satisfied. True love is when love is sacrificed.

The great seal of truth is simplicity.

The great seal of truth is simplicity.

What is passion? It is surely the becoming of a person. Are we not, for most of our lives, marking read more

What is passion? It is surely the becoming of a person. Are we not, for most of our lives, marking time? Most of our being is at rest, unlived. In passion, the body and the spirit seek expression outside of self. Passion is all that is other from self. Sex is only interesting when it releases passion. The more extreme and the more expressed that passion is, the more unbearable does life seem without it. It reminds us that if passion dies or is denied, we are partly dead and that soon, come what may, we will be wholly so.

Nunc scio quit sit amor."
Lat., "Now I know what love is.

Nunc scio quit sit amor."
Lat., "Now I know what love is.

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength; loving someone deeply gives you courage.

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength; loving someone deeply gives you courage.

Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction.

Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction.

Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence.

Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence.

It's not till sex has died out between a man and a woman that they can really love. And now read more

It's not till sex has died out between a man and a woman that they can really love. And now I mean affection. Now I mean to be fond of (as one is fond of oneself) --to hope, to be disappointed, to live inside the other heart. When I look back on the pain of sex, the love like a wild fox so ready to bite, the antagonism that sits like a twin beside love, and contrast it with affection, so deeply unrepeatable, of two people who have lived a life together (and of whom one must die) it's the affection I find richer. It's that I would have again. Not all those doubtful rainbow colors.