I want the dead lovers of the world to hear our laughter and grow sad. I want a breath of our passion to stir their dust into consciosness, to wake their ashes in pain.

Here is the first passionate love-letter I have ever written in my life. Strange, that my first passionate love-letter should have been addressed to a dead girl. Can they feel, I wonder, those white silent people we call the dead?

I don't want to earn my living; I want to live.

Musical people always want one to be perfectly dumb at the very moment when one is longing to be perfectly deaf

We look before and after,
And pine for what is not;
Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those that tell
Of saddest thought.

Her love was trembling in laughter on her lips.