The Voice Of The Sea Is Seductive,

The Generous Abundance Of Her Passion, Without Guile Or Trickery, Was Like A White Flame Which Penetrated And Found Response In Depths Of His Own Sensuous Nature That Had Never Yet Been Reached.

Perhaps It Is Better To Wake Up After All, Even To Suffer, Rather Than To Remain A Dupe To Illusions All One's Life.

She Was Still Under The Spell Of Her Infatuation. She Had Tried To Forget Him, Realizing The Inutility Of Remembering. But The Thought Of Him Was Like An Obsession, Ever Pressing Itself Upon Her. It Was Not That She Dwelt Upon Details Of Their Acquaintance, Or Recalled In Any Special Or Peculiar Way His Personality; It Was His Being, His Existence, Which Dominated Her Thought, Fading Sometimes As If It Would Melt Into The Mist Of The Forgotten, Reviving Again With An Intensity Which Filled Her With An Incomprehensible Longing.

She Missed Him The Days When Some Pretext Served To Take Him Away From Her, Just As One Misses The Sun On A Cloudy Day Without Having Thought Much About The Sun When It Was Shining.

No, I Only Think You Cruel, As I Said The Other Day. Maybe Not Intentionally Cruel; But You Seem To Be Forcing Me Into Disclosures Which Can Result In Nothing; As If You Would Have Me Bare A Wound For The Pleasure Of Looking At It, Without The Intention Or Power Of Healing It.