He Was A Silent Fury

Stupid Women, And All Are Stupid, Think The First Winning Of The Man The Final Victory. Then They Settle Down And Grow Fat, And Stale, And Dead, And Heartbroken. Alas, They Are So Stupid. But You, Little Infant-woman With Your First Victory, You Must Make Your Love-life An Unending Chain Of Victories. Each Day You Must Win Your Man Again. And When You Have Won The Last Victory, When You Can Find No More To Win, Then Ends Love. Finis Is Written, And Your Man Wanders In Strange Gardens.

Love Cannot In Its Very Nature Be Peaceful Or Content. It Is A Restlessness, An Unsatisfaction. I Can Grant A Lasting Love Just As I Can Grant A Lasting Unsatisfaction; But The Lasting Love Cannot Be Coupled With Possession, For Love Is Pain And Desire And Possession Is Easement And Fulfilment.

Life, In A Sense, Is Living And Surviving. And All That Makes For Living And Surviving Is Good. He Who Follows The Fact Cannot Go Astray, While He Who Has No Reverence For The Fact Wanders Afar.

They Were Firemakers! They Were Gods! [humans]

I Do Not Live For What The World Thinks Of Me, But For What I Think Of Myself.