Anything becomes interesting if you look at it long enough.

But the disparaging of those we love always alienates us from them to some extent. We must not touch our idols; the gilt comes off in our hands.

Through small apertures we glimpse abysses whose sombre depths turn us faint. And yet over the whole there hovers an extraordinary tenderness.

After the pain of this disappointment her heart once more stood empty, and the succession of identical days began again.

What is glory? It is to have a lot of nonsense talked about you.

And he beholds the moon; like a rounded fragment of ice filled with motionless light.

She was as sated with him as he was tired of her. Emma had rediscovered in adultery all the banality of marriage.