“I smiled. ‘Things my father never told me.’ ‘Somebody,’ said Jacques, ‘your father or mine, should have told us that not many people have ever died of love. But multitudes have perished, and are perishing every hour – and in the oddest places! – for the lack of it.’ And then: ‘Here comes your baby. Sois sage. Sois chic.”

“I smiled. ‘Things my father never told me.’ ‘Somebody,’ said Jacques, ‘your father or mine, should have told us that not many people have ever died of love. But multitudes have perished, and are perishing every hour – and in the oddest places! – for the lack of it.’ And then: ‘Here comes your baby. Sois sage. Sois chic.”

— James Baldwin