He was well aware that of the two of three thousand times he had made love (how many times had he made love in his life?) only two or three were really essential and unforgettable. The rest were mere echoes, imitations, repetitions, or reminiscences.
Milan KunderaIn the love poetry of every age, the woman longs to be weighed down by the man's body.
Milan KunderaShe regarded books as the emblems of secret brotherhood. A man with this sort of library couldn't possibly hurt her.
Milan KunderaWhen she is older she will see in these resemblances a regrettable uniformity among individuals (they all stop at the same spots to kiss, have the same tastes in clothing, flatter a woman with the same metaphor) and a tedious monotony among events (they are all just an endless repetition of the same one); but in her adolescence she welcomes these coincidences as miraculous and she is avid to decipher their meanings.
Milan Kundera