For this moment, this one moment, we are together. I press you to me. Come, pain, feed on me. Bury your fangs in my flesh. Tear me asunder. I sob, I sob.

When the body escaped mutilation, seldom did the heart go to the grave unscarred.

About here, she thought, dabbling her fingers in the water, a ship had sunk, and she muttered, dreamily half asleep, how we perished, each alone.

Are we so made that we have to take death in small doses daily or we could not go on with the business of living?

Better was it to go unknown and leave behind you an arch, then to burn like a meteor and leave no dust.

For while directly we say that it [the length of human life] is ages long, we are reminded that it is briefer than the fall of a rose leaf to the ground.

Death is woven in with the violets,” said Louis. “Death and again death.”)

I must be able to say, 'Percival, a ridiculous name'. At the same time let me tell you, men and women, hurrying to the tube station, you would have had to respect him. You would have had to form up and follow behind him. How strange to oar one's way through crowds seeing life through hollow eyes, burning eyes.

Even if fall she must, it was to lie on the earth and moulder sweetly into the roots of violets.