Sentences must stir in a book like leaves in a forest, each distinct from each despite their resemblance.
Gustave FlaubertShe was as sated with him as he was tired of her. Emma had rediscovered in adultery all the banality of marriage.
Gustave FlaubertHe was bored now when Emma suddenly began to sob on his breast; and his heart, like the people who can only stand a certain amount of music, became drowsy through indifference to the vibrations of a love whose subtleties he could no longer distinguish.
Gustave Flaubert