Character: Eleanor

All true love is ninety five percent passion plus a pinch of jealousy.

Filthy world! The worst part about it is I! God, why am I not a man? Why am I not a fool? Here you are, you're dumber than me, not much, but all the same, and are free to romp around until bored, and then change the setting and again to frolic, free to have fun with girls, not entangled in the network of emotions, free to think anything, and no one will blame you. And I mind I have more than enough, but I'm chained to a sinking ship, the inevitable marriage. And for whom? For most men I'm too smart, and meanwhile, to attract their attention, is forced to descend to their level, then they at least have fun, can treat me in a condescending way.

From the summer there is no holiday, ' she said. Summer love is not for us.

Summer is only the unfulfilled promise of spring, fake instead of those warm and blissful night, they dream in April.