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This is the very womb and bed of enormity.

We await the successsive births in the soul of the child. We give all possible material, that nothing may lack to the groping soul, and then we watch for the perfect faculty to come, safeguarding the child from interruption so that it may carry its efforts through.

For, verily, great love springs from great knowledge of the beloved object, and if you little know it, you will be able to love it only little or not at all.

Our trials, our sorrows, and our grieves develop us.

Those who have never suffered the iniquities of exile cannot possibly understand the significance, the gravitas, of a mattress.

Death borders upon our birth, and our cradle stands in the grave.

The beloved is the ultimate fetish.

The person who grieves suffers his passion to grow upon him; he indulges it, he loves it; but this never happens in the case of actual pain, which no man ever willingly endured for any considerable time.