all/ipathogen\ein

“Each night I go to bed wishing you were the book I was reading ‚— the page I’d crease and leave unread before turning off the lights.”

“I thought your soul was greater and more worthy of mine, for I have loved you with all the love there is in my heart. You’re killing what life I still have, you blow everything away with one puff as though it were a mere spider’s web. I have nothing left in the world, nothing left in life. You love me, and yet you are killing me. You destroy my happiness and your own. I was beginning to amass in my heart so much love and happiness. You are crazy and I am crazier still. But don’t you know that I belong to you body and soul? Like a woman who has made a pact. If my happiness alone depended on your love, I would run away from you, for one can do without happiness—and, besides, in this area I haven’t developed any bad habits—but your love is necessary to me for life itself. I love you with all my strength, away from you I die.”

“Strength is something you enjoy as you lose it.”

“My forgetting you is nothing but another title of nobility. A certificate of your past value.”

“The hands of women are affecting, feverish, fragile. They are symbolically more manifest and more diaphanous than their sexual organs. Their hands and hair. Would the woman who offered her eyes to him cut off her hands for someone who told her they were even more seductive than her gaze ? Inanimate, translucent hands, women’s hands jealous of each other.”