He no longer lives in years; he is down to seasons. Finally it will become single nights, each one perilous as a lunar journey. He - James Salter

Now they are lovers. The first, wild courses are ended. They have founded their domain. A satanic happiness follows.

Dresscodes are for styleless people.

He was reaching that age, he was at the edge of it, when the world becomes suddenly more beautiful, when it reveals itself in a special way, in every detail, roof and wall, in the leaves of trees fluttering faintly before the rain. The world was opening itself, as if to allow, now that life was shortening, one long, passionate look, and all that had been withheld would finally be given.