Book: Justine

Now you live in my imaginary world edit. Speaking frankly, I was a fool when all you said. Watch it, what are you questioning me satisfied. The same questions several days in a row. The slightest deviation and you are outside of yourself. You know I never repeat the story twice, word for word. Does this mean that I'm lying?

In my life there is something like Nezhivenko Place, as you call it, and I'm trying to fill it with people, accidents, illnesses, all that came to hand. You're right when you say that it is only a pitiful semblance of true life, a wiser life. However, while I respect your science and your knowledge, I feel that if I should ever come to terms with yourself, before I have to break through the scraps of my personality and burn them to the ground. Artificially of my problems would solve anything - you only need to bury the bib to the priest. But we, the Alexandrians, too proud for that and too respectful of faith. It would be unfair to God, my dear, and even if I fail someone else (I see you smile), I decided in any case not to let Him down, whoever He was.

Unsure of her long fingers as though trying to touch, to memorize the shape of our happiness.

... I realized with surprise that I still love her and know that she will never be able to love another woman, I cringe thinking she could come back.

... Passion to possess, to own, if you starve her to death, makes a man being absolutely and unconditionally dependent - on the subject of passion.

Nearby hangs a small lithograph of the Mona Lisa whose enigmatic smile has always reminded Scobie of his own mother. (That reminds me that this famous smile has always seemed to me smiling woman, just at dinner poisoned her own husband.)

He thought much and suffered much, but what he lacked is the determination to try - first properties of the artist.

Anger have vision no worse than mercy.

We were dying quickly from each other to get to understand your own feelings.

She loved my weaknesses, for it could be useful to me.

Well. I finally fell in love. There is something to be proud of.

All I was good at, it's loving her more than she me, the suit I have always had a full hand.

I was talking about the futility of art, but said nothing about the relief it could give.

She took kisses like layer after layer of oil paint.