We had not a taste in common. Our characters and predispositions were wholly different, and yet in the magical ease of this friendship we felt something promised us.
These notes, however they may be read, are intended only as a painstaking affectionate commentary on a world into which I have been born to share my most solitary moments — those of coitus — with Just...
These are the moments which possess the writer, not the lover, and which live on perpetually. One can return to them time and time again in memory, or use them as a fund upon which to build the part o...
The loved object is simply one that has shared an experience at the same moment of time, narcissistically; and the desire to be near the beloved object is at first not due to the idea of possessing it...
The great prayer wound its way into my sleepy consciousness like a serpent, coil after shining coil of words—the voice of the muezzin sinking from register to register of gravity—until the whole morni...
One learns nothing from those who return our love.
I suppose events are simply a sort of annotation of our feelings--the one might be deduced from the other. Time carries us (boldly imagining that we are discrete ego's modeling our own personal future...
Her efforts to achieve herself had led her always towards, and not away from him.
Cuesta mucho luchar contra el deseo del corazón; todo lo que quiere obtener, lo compra al precio del alma.
Africa, which they had somehow visualized as an extension of Europe -- an extension of terms, of references to a definitive past -- had already asserted itself as something different: a forbidding dar...
A puritan culture’s conception of art is something which will endorse its morality and flatter its patriotism.
A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, and these findings about the penetralia of sexual life gave the writer a sort of justification for a native acerbity. Afterwards, when love left him in the lur...
A diary is the last place to go if you wish to seek the truth about a person. Nobody dares to make the final confession to themselves on paper: or at least, not about love.
Man is only an extension of the spirit of place.
اننا عادة ما نولد لكي نحب هؤلاء الذين يصيبوننا بالجراح اكثر من غيرهمرباعية الإسكندرية - بلتازار
Other countries may offer you discoveries in manners or lore or landscape; Greece offers you something harder—the discovery of yourself.
One word ‘love’ has to do service for so many different kinds of the same animal.
Of women, the most we can say, not being Frenchmen, is that they are burrowing animals.
He always puzzled me —except when I had him in my arms.
An artist does not have a personal life as we do, he hides it, forcing us to go to his books if we wish to touch the true source of his feelings. Underneath all his preoccupations with sex, society, r...