The tender friendships one gives up, on parting, leave their bite on the heart, but also a curious feeling of a treasure somewhere buried. – Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Southern Mail, 1929, translated from French by Cu
Our masks, always in peril of smearing or cracking, in need of continuous check in the mirror or silverware, keep us in thrall to ourselves, concerned with our surfaces. – Carolyn Kizer