The voluntary captive The speechless the prisoner Which I hide in my very depths.
You have to get past the pleasure stage, until you reach the stage of tears.
Debauchery conceived of as a kind of ascetic experience is not new, either for men or for women, but until Story of O no woman to my knowledge had said it.
I wasn't young, I wasn't pretty, it was necessary to find other weapons.
O felt that her mouth was beautiful, since her lover condescended to thrust himself into it . . .
The fact that he gave her was to him a proof, and ought to be one for her as well that she belonged to him: one can only give what belongs to you.