Gustave Flaubert. Madame Bovary (№ 217309)

She cursed herself for not loved then Leona, now she longed for his kisses. She wanted to run after him, fall into his arms, to tell him: "It's me, I'm yours!" But it already scared away the obstacles and bitterness, primitives to the desires of only increased their.
Since then the memory of Leon was the centre of her longing. It was burning in her soul, brighter than the fire, divorced on snow travellers in the Russian steppe. Emma rushed to the fire, warming herself beside him, carefully stirring it lit the small enclave in the hearth, looked everywhere for something else to throw. The most distant memories and recent incidents that she experienced and what she had imagined, scattered voluptuous dreams, thoughts about happiness, lumassina in the wind like dead branches, her useless morality of her unfulfilled aspirations, domestic squabbles - all it picked up, it's all she caught, it was all good, to stir up her grief.