It was always the same; other people gave up loving before she did. They got spoilt, or else they went away; in any case, they were partly to blame. Why did it happen so? She herself never changed; when she loved anyone, it was for life. She could not understand desertion; it was something so huge, so monstrous that the notion of it made her little heart break.

A ruined man fell from her hands like a ripe fruit, to lie rotting on the ground.

An entire lifetime would not be long enough for you to exhaust the glance of the young harvest-girl.

The only basis for living is believing in life, loving it, and applying the whole force of one's intellect to know it better.

Don't go looking at me like that because you'll wear your eyes out.

It all seemed a hollow sham now - that strict code, that conscientious virtue that condemned her to the sterile joys of pious women! No, no, she'd had enough of that; she wanted to live!

In my view you cannot claim to have seen something until you have photographed it.