I was doing well enough until you came along and kicked my stone over, and out I came, all moss and eyes. - Djuna Barnes

Those who love everything, as those who love a city, in its profoundest sense, become the shame of that city, the detraques, the paupers; their good is incommunicable, outwitted, being the rudiment of a life that has developed, as in man's body are found evidences of lost needs.

Nora aveva la faccia di tutti coloro che amano gli altri - una faccia che sarebbe diventata cattiva quando avrebbe scoperto che amare senza riserve è essere traditi.

And must I, perchance, like careful writers, guard myself against the conclusions of my readers?