“Love, he thought. That too is love. The old miracle. It not only casts a rainbow of dreams against the gray sky of facts – it also sheds romantic light upon a heap of dung – a miracle and a mad mockery. Suddenly he had the strange feeling of having become, in a remote way, an accomplice.”

“Love, he thought. That too is love. The old miracle. It not only casts a rainbow of dreams against the gray sky of facts – it also sheds romantic light upon a heap of dung – a miracle and a mad mockery. Suddenly he had the strange feeling of having become, in a remote way, an accomplice.”

— Erich Maria Remarque