We'll Grow Old Waiting.

A Lie Is More Comfortable Than Doubt, More Useful Than Love, More Lasting Than Truth.

He Is Ugly And Sad, But He Is All Love.

Because He Had Not Done What She, With Her Heart In Her Mouth, Had Hoped He Would Do, Which Was To Be A Man: Deny Everything, And Swear On His Life It Was Not True, And Grow Indignant At The False Accusation, And Shout Curses At This Ill-begotten Society That Did Not Hesitate To Trample On One's Honor, And Remain Imperturbable Even When Forced With Crushing Proofs Of His Disloyalty.

He Pleaded So Much That He Lost His Voice. His Bones Began To Fill With Words.

No Medicine Cures What Happiness Cannot.