Author of quotes: Sherwood Anderson

Love is like the wind on a black night, fluttering the grass under the trees. <...> Not try to make love definite. It is the divine accident of life. We want her clarity and certainty, want to live under the trees, where the night wind blows, then immediately begins a long hot day of disappointment on the lips, hot and still soft after making out, squeaky settles the dust from the wheels.