Like the tree let the wind pass by enjoy its caress love your own swaying. And if the wind becomes tempest yield be supple and let the wind pass by. — Lucie Spède, from “Well-Being,” Belgian Women Poets: An Anthology, edited by Judy Cochran ( Peter Lang Publishing Inc., 2000) Advertisements
And finally, love is magic, as is hatred, too, imprinting as they do upon the brain the image of a being whom we allow to haunt us. — Marguerite Yourcenar, L’Œuvre au noir/The Abyss. (Assimil Gmbh; Presumed to be 1st as edition is unstated edition June 25, 1976) Originally published 1968.