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What I dislike least in my former self are the moments of prayer.

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I wished for nothing beyond her smile, and to walk with her thus, hand in hand, along a sun warmed, flower bordered path.

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She already loved me too much to see me as I was.

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It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not.

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I say, "it seemed to me," for from the depths of my past childhood, there now awoke in me the glimmerings of a thousand lost sensations. The fact that...more

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But I think there comes a point in love, a unique moment which later on the soul seeks in vain to surpass, and that the effort to revive such happines...more