Death holds no horrors. It is simply the ultimate horror of life.
A faithful woman looks to the spring, a good book, perfume, earthquakes, and divine revelation for the experience others find in a lover. They deceive their husbands, so to speak, with the entire world, men excepted.
Since I love you, my loneliness begins to throw you.
A wife loves out of duty, and duty leads to constraint, and constraint kills desire.
Their own kind of logic which cries for miracles and, on occasion.
In war-time a man is called a hero. It doesn't make him any braver, and he runs for his life. But at least it's a hero who is running away.