Never touch a butterfly's wing with your finger.

Never touch a butterfly's wing with your finger.

Our perfect companions never have fewer than four feet.

There are days when solitude is a heady wine that intoxicates you with freedom, others when it is a bitter tonic, and still others when it is a poison that makes you beat your head against the wall.

January, month of empty pockets! let us endure this evil month, anxious as a theatrical producer's forehead.

I am going away with him to an unknown country where I shall have no past and no name, and where I shall be born again with a new face and an untried heart.