Book: Titan

Do not laugh at the pangs of unrequited love. The jealousy icy embrace, tenacious as death's embrace.

Love! Mysterious, inexplicable vexation of spirit, which the strong are even stronger than weak... Now COWPERWOOD understood - it appeared to him as if in a blinding vision that the ultimate goal is fame, power, wealth, beauty, and that beauty is a fusion of good taste, innate culture, talent, passion, dreams of a woman like Berenice Fleming. He figured it out. Understood. And in addition Berenice, ahead was only the impending old age, darkness, silence.

Of his innumerable adventures, he gained confidence that all women are indecisive, timid, strange, contradictory and inconsistent in their actions, and sometimes even in the deepest of their desires. To overcome them, sometimes you need to go through.

He really was not without appeal. Relatively young, received in due time, if not education, then education in one of the most preferred American colleges, it is tastefully dressed with taste choosing friends and generally know how to live with taste, and in fact was a rake and a libertine. From a young age he loved gambling, drank a lot, but it almost did not affect his health, swallowed untold amounts of alcohol, he had been except that "tipsy". A considerable place in his life also held a passion for women, which Gibbon called "the most pleasant of our vices." Persistent, patient, brutal accumulation of wealth, who devoted himself to his father, creating his giant enterprise was interested in him no more than the sacred ordinances of the Chaldeans. He acknowledged, however, that profitable enterprise in itself an excellent thing, and liked to sometimes think of big factories, spread over a huge area, mentally imagined the monotonous rows of brick buildings, high smokestack, piercing factory whistles. But to take any part in the dull routine of the control of the whole machine - no, thank you!

It will go its own way, and she will sooner or later leave him. Nothing here, as you can see, will not help. To remake himself, he could not. He was a man of too passionate, multi-faceted and complex and too big egoist to remain faithful to one person.

Love died. Died delicate illusion; scattered pearl pink sweet mist; away flew the laughing Cupid with a sly smile on her plump lips and mysterious and alluring look; faded the flowers whispered of eternal spring, about the intoxication of life; silent calls, imperiously budushie painfully a stream of joy; all were killed.

Imagine a military leader, victim of a brutal defeat, or just the average worker, who after many years of excellent service refused from the site. What to seek solace in a loving heart, if love is rejected, if all the victims sacrificed on its altar in vain? In the philosophy? But it's not more like a game of spillikins. In religion? It requires a metaphysical mind.

There is, perhaps, peculiar though cruel charm that no one ever was given to foresee all the undercurrents and reefs, deviating from the intended path of our boat, to anticipate where you will turn capricious wind of luck - if he can blow our sails, or leave them lifeless to splash on masts. We build and build plans, but no matter how much you think, how can we allow at least one-half inch to their height? Who is able to expostulate or, conversely, to contribute to the Providence, which molds our destinies, although we have roughly, in their own way and trying to change them?

The worst thing is that the old relationship very quickly opossums, turning into an empty visibility past love.

To understand the nature of women of that time, you should mentally refer to the period of the middle ages, when the leading role belonged to the Church and talented, but far from living poets surrounded the woman mystical aura. Since then, girls and women were brought up in the consciousness that they created from another more noble material than men that their mission is to elevate and ennoble the other half of the human race and that their favor - bestsennyi gift in the world. This pink romantic haze that has nothing to do with the conception of individual virtues has led to the fact that women from top to down looked at men and sometimes other women.

... They both glowed with a sort of primal passion. And while life did not estrange them from each other, COWPERWOOD can't imagine a more admirable Union. They did not know of the chill of satiety, which often proceeds in mutual disgust. Eileen has always been desirable. He mocked her, fooled around, took care Nof, knowing in advance that she will not push them away with stiffness or lean mine bigots and hypocrite. Despite her hot, impulsive temper, Eileen was always possible to stop and to reason, if she was wrong. She, on the other hand, has repeatedly given Him good advice, prompted by her female instincts.

About life, hope, young of the year.
Dream cruise! All will disappear without a trace.

And yet, she's twenty-two years, and she is not married; and the past inspires her constant anxiety, and the soil under her feet wrong and insidious.

Say what you will, but women's loyalty just will not reset from the accounts; whether by nature or developed under the pressure of society, but most of mankind highly respect it.