Soon the sun will rise That's when the romance dies And I'm just tired of running around
― Janet Fitch, White Oleander
― Frank Herbert, Dune
― John Steinbeck, East of Eden
Martha Gellhorn, from a letter to Allen Grover featured in The Selected Letters of Marth Gellhorn
"I love you. I feel as though we were never strangers, you and I, not even for a moment."
— Friedrich Nietzsche