The music was still throbbing in her ears, and she forced herself to stay awake in order to prolong the illusion of this luxurious life she would so soon have to be leaving. . . . She longed to know all about their lives, to penetrate into them, to be part of them.

But her life was as cold as an attic facing north; and boredom, like a silent spider, was weaving its web in the shadows, in every corner of her heart.

Everything immediately surrounding her -- boring countryside, inane petty bourgeois, the mediocrity of daily life -- seemed to her the exception rather than th…

He took it for granted that she was content; and she resented his settled calm, his serene dullness, the very happiness she herself brought him.

Touch me, hold me. How my open arms ache! Try to fall for me.

There's the wind on the heath, brother; if I could only feel that, I would gladly live for ever.

It was long since I had longed for anything and the effect on me was horrible.