beautiful December grapes, blue as plums, every grape a little skinful of sweet, tasteless water
Sidonie Gabrielle ColetteI am going away with him to an unknown country where I shall have no past and no name, and where I shall be born again with a new face and an untried heart.
Sidonie Gabrielle ColetteVoluptuaries, consumed by their senses, always begin by flinging themselves with a great display of frenzy into an abyss. But they survive, they come to the surface again. And they develop a routine of the abyss: It's four o clock. At five I have my abyss.
Sidonie Gabrielle Colette