Truth Is A Woman. That Is Why

A Woman's Best Love Letters Are Always Written To The Man She Is Betraying.

It Is Not Love That Is Blind, But Jealousy.

Truth Is A Matter Of Direct Apprehension-you Can't Climb A Ladder Of Mental Concepts To It.

There Is No Pain Compared To That Of Loving A Woman Who Makes Her Body Accessible To One And Yet Who Is Incapable Of Delivering Her True Self -- Because She Does Not Know Where To Find It.

The Loved Object Is Simply One That Has Shared An Experience At The Same Moment Of Time, Narcissistically; And The Desire To Be Near The Beloved Object Is At First Not Due To The Idea Of Possessing It, But Simply To Let The Two Experiences Compare Themselves, Like Reflections In Different Mirrors. All This May Precede The First Look, Kiss, Or Touch; Precede Ambition, Pride, Or Envy; Precede The First Declarations Which Mark The Turning Point—for From Here Love Degenerates Into Habit, Possession, And Back To Loneliness.