The enemy of a love is never outside, it's not a man or woman, it's what we lack in ourselves. — Anaïs Nin

At night too, she puzzled the mystery of her desperate need of kindness. As other girls prayed for handsomeness in a lover, or for wealth, or for power, or for poetry, she had prayed fervently: let him be kind.

You are like a person who consumes herself in love and giving and does not know the miracles that are born of this.

When she did finally fall asleep it was the restless sleep of the night watchman continuously aware of danger and of the treacheries of time seeking to cheat her by permitting clocks to strike the passing hours when she was not awake to grasp their contents.