The anticipation and dread he felt at seeing her was also a kind of sensual pleasure, and surrounding it, like an embrace, was a general elation--it might hurt, it was horribly inconvenient, no good might come of it, but he had found out for himself what it was to be in love, and it thrilled him.
Ian McewanWasn't writing a kind of soaring, an achievable form of flight, of fancy, of the imagination?
Ian Mcewan