Salome

«The moon has a strange look tonight... She is like a mad woman, a mad woman who is seeking everywhere for lovers. She is naked too. She is quite naked. The clouds are seeking to clothe her nakedness, but she will not let them. She shows herself naked in the sky... She has become red as blood...

«Wherefore didst thou not look at me, Iokanaan? If thou hadst looked at me thou hadst loved me... the mystery of Love is greater than the mystery of Death... There was a bitter taste on thy lips. Was it the taste of blood?... Nay; but perchance it was the taste of love.»

—Oscar Wilde ('Salome')