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“I likened her to the slender PSYCHÉ and judged that the perfection of her face ennobled everything unclean around her: The dusty hems of her bunched-up skirt, the worn straps of her nightshirt; the blackened soles of her bare feet [...] All this and the pungent air! Ô this night, sweet pungent night! "HÉBÉ" may come but a season. But this girl's season would know a hot spring
and an Indian summer.”
― Roman Payne

“Life is Not a perpetual climb towards Greatness.
For our family, ourselves, and friends,
It is but sad Decay, so,
Let every girl die after her Hebé (Ἥβ��).
And every man after his Aristeia(ἀριστεία).”
― Roman Payne