Gertrude Bell: Paradise has no time, age or sanctuary. Awaits us.
Charles Doughty-Wylie: Will you write to me?
Gertrude Bell: Yes, I'll write to you from every post office in the desert.
Charles Doughty-Wylie: Love is a tyrant, sparing none.
Gertrude Bell: Nightingale with drops in heart bleed. A fed red rose. Then came the wind. And catching her, jealous branches. I have coiled heart with a hundred thorns.