It is strange how sad it can be - sunlight in the afternoon, don't you think?

She had left me thirsty and all my life would be thirst and longing for what I had lost before I found it.

Cold - cold as truth, cold as life. No, nothing can be as cold as life.

The rumble of the life outside was like the sound of the sea which was rising gradually around her.

All of a writer that matters is in the book or books. It is idiotic to be curious about the person.

Sometimes the Earth trembles; sometimes you can feel it breathe.

Stephan was secretive and a liar, but he was a very gentle and expert lover. She was the petted, cherished child, the desired mistress, the worshipped, perfumed goddess. She was all these things to Stephan - or so he made her believe.