Forgive me," he went on. "For a long time I have had the peculiar habit of not arriving but appearing.

Yes, it's crazy. Love is either crazy or it's nothing at all.

The basis of shame is not some personal mistake of ours, but the ignominy, the humiliation we feel that we must be what we are without any choice in the matter, and that this humiliation is seen by everyone.

She was aware that in love even the most passionate idealism will not rid the body's surface of its terrible, basic importance.

Until that time, her betrayals had filled her with excitement and joy, because they opened up new paths to new adventures of betrayal. But what if the paths came to an end? One could betray one's parents, husband, country, love, but when parents, husband, country, and love were gone - what was left to betray?

We live everything as it comes, without warning, like an actor going on cold.

Dogs are our link to paradise.