“Was his life nothing? Had he nothing to show, no work? He did not count his work, anyone could have done it. What had he known, but the long, marital embrace with his wife. Curious, that this was what his life amounted to! At any rate, it was something, it was eternal. He would say so to anybody, and be proud of it. He lay with his wife in his arms, and she was still his fulfillment, just the same as ever. And that was the be-all and the end-all. Yes, and he was proud of it.”

“He had felt proud and happy then, happy that she was his, proud of her grace and wifely carriage.”

“There were times when [he] allowed himself to see clearly that he would end his working life, that was to say, his conscious thinking life, in this task, that all his thoughts would have been another man's thoughts, all his work another man's work. And then he thought it did not perhaps matter so greatly... It was a pleasant subordination, if he was a subordinate.”

“Adonis is now treating her like a Princess. I think he might even propose marriage, since his wife has just divorced him!" Phyllis explained, & added conversationally,"Do you know why his wife divorced Adonis? For "impotence"! Or what they prefer to call "incompatibility"! Adonis had been giving all his sperm to Vicky at the massage parlour, & had nothing left for his wife. Whenever he had some, he would look for Vicky- so his wife found him incompatible! Don`t you find it funny? He! He! He!" she laughed.[MMT]”

“Nothing flatters a man as much as the happiness of his wife; he is always proud of himself as the source of it.”

“She remained silent. There was nothing left to say. He'd said it all the night before. He had to end it. He could never leave his wife. And, in fact, she had known this. Although she loved him - and truly she did - he wasn't hers. He belonged to his wife. She'd earned him. It didn't matter that he was her first love or that she was his passion. It didn't matter that they had loved one another for more than half their lives. It didn't matter that he had married his wife on the rebound. It didn't matter that he didn't love the woman. It didn't even matter that they had turned into some soap-opera cliche. He was married to someone else and that meant that she was leftovers and destined to remain on the periphery in the shadow of another woman's marriage. But no more. She was well and truly sick of it. ”