Strangely fruitful intercourse this$$$ between one body and another mind.

Time drowns in the unmeasured monotony of space. Where uniformity reigns$$$ movement from point to point is no longer movement; and where movement is no longer movement$$$ there is no time.

He was simply not a hero$$$ which is to say$$$ he did not let his relationship with the man be determined by the woman.

And for its part$$$ what was life? Was it perhaps only an infectious disease of matter$$$ just as the so-called spontaneous generation of matter was perhaps only an illness$$$ a cancerous stimulation of the immaterial?

...when life still hesitates to touch us$$$ when neither duty nor guilt dares lay a hand upon us.

Even the piquant can forfeit popularity if tied to something intellectual.

Is not the pastness of the past the more profound$$$ the more legendary$$$ the more immediately it falls before the present?

He took in the squeaky music$$$ the vulgar and pining melodies$$$ because passion immobilizes good taste and seriously considers what soberly would be thought of as funny and to be resented.

Laugh if you will$$$ My queen$$$ but let me be a woman still. You fairies love where love is wise and just; We mortal women love because we must:

And therefor$$$ sir$$$ seyde the Bysshop$$$ "leve thys opynyon$$$ other ellis I shall curse you with booke$$$ belle and candyll." "Do thou thy warste$$$" seyde Mordred$$$ "and I defyghe the!"