How alike are the groans of love, to those of the dying. — Malcolm Lowry

Translation: You can´t live without loving.

What beauty can compare to that of a cantina in the early morning?

The poor old creature seemed now indeed like someone being drawn, lured, into events of which he has no real comprehension, by people with whom he wishes to be friendly, even to play, who entice him by encouraging that wish and by whom, because they really despise and desire to humilate him, he is finally entangled.