Even the flowers, you have to fawn on them--" Rhythmically, Miriam was swaying and stroking the flower with her mouth, inhaling the scent which ever after made her shudder as it came to her nostrils.
"You don't want to love--your eternal and abnormal craving is to be loved.

You aren't positive, you're negative.

You absorb, absorb, as if you must fill yourself up with love, because you've got a shortage somewhere." She was stunned by his cruelty, and did not hear.

He had not the faintest notion of what he was saying.

It was as if his fretted, tortured soul, run hot by thwarted passion, jetted off these sayings like sparks from electricity.