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.
Anne DesclosStory of O is a fairy tale for another world, a world where some part of me lived for a long time, a world that no longer exists except between the covers of a book.
Anne DesclosO felt that her mouth was beautiful, since her lover condescended to thrust himself into it . . .
Anne DesclosMen are foolish to expect us to revere them, when, in the end, they amount to almost nothing.
Anne DesclosO was infinitely more moving when her body was covered with marks, of whatever kind, if only because these marks made it impossible for her to cheat and immediately proclaimed, the moment they were seen, that anything went as far as she was concerned. For to know this was one thing, but to see the proof of it, and to see the proof constantly renewed, was quite another.
Anne Desclos