Nevertheless the flames did die down -- whether exhausted from lack of supplies or choked by excessive feeding. Little by little, love was quenched by absence; regret was smothered by routine; and the fiery glow that had reddened her pale sky grew gray and gradually vanished. . . . But the storm kept raging, her passion burned itself to ashes, no help was forthcoming, no new sun rose to the horizon. Night closed in completely around her, and she was left alone in a horrible void of piercing cold.

There was a silence. They looked at each other; and their thoughts clung together in their common anguish like two throbbing hearts.

Poor little thing! She's gasping for love like a carp on a kitchen table gasping for water.

Leon was tired of loving without having anything to show for it, and he was beginning to feel the depression that comes from leading a monotonous life without …

The pain of sexual frustration, of repressed tenderness, of denied curiosity, of isolation in the ego, of greed, suppressed rebellion, of hatred poisoning all …

Of all the objects of hatred, a woman once loved is the most hateful.

Love is the strange bewilderment that overtakes one person on account of another person.