Lady beware. Fan not the harmless glow Of admiration into ardent love, Lean not with red curled smiling lips above The flickering spark of sinless flame, and blow, Lest in the sudden waking of desire Thou, like the child, shalt perish in the fire.
They who love dancing too much seem to have more brains in their feet than in their head.
It is a brave and stupid thing, a beautiful thing, to waste one's life for love.
My love though silly is more brave.
Gaston was not only a fierce lover, with endless wisdom and imagination, but he was also, perhaps, the first man in the history of the species who had made an emergency landing and had come close to killing himself and his sweetheart simply to make love in a field of violets.
Loving him was like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street; faster than the winds, passionate as sin, ending so suddenly.
There was no more dangerous kind of madman than one who devoted a good brain and a courageous heart to unhealthy ambitions.
In Paris, you couldn't really turn around without seeing the result of lovers' bad decisions. An artist given to sexual excess was almost a cliché, but no one seemed to mind. As long as you were making something good or interesting or sensational, you could have as many lovers as you wanted and ruin them all.
