“Why should her lover, just because he is male, be in a position to judge her against other women? Why must she need to know her position and hate needing to, and hate knowing? Why should his reply have such exaggerated power? And it does. He does not know that what he says will affect the way she feels when they next make love. She is angry for a number of good reasons that may have nothing to do with this particular man's intentions. The exchange reminds her that, in spite of a whole fabric of carefully woven equalities, they are not equal in this way that is so crucial that its snagged thread unravels the rest.”

“Why ever are you here?“ she whispered, putting her hands to his face.“Because I love you.”In so many ways, that explained nothing … and told her everything she needed to know.”

“He should in humility have asked her why it was that he was naturally a cuckold, why two women of different temperaments and characters had been inspired to have lovers at his expense. He should be telling her, with the warmth of her body warming his, that his second wife had confessed to greater sexual pleasure when she remembered that she was deceiving him.”

“There are two kind of men,' said Ka, in a didatic voice. 'The first kind does not fall in love until he's seen how the girls eats a sandwich, how she combs her hair, what sort of nonsense she cares about, why she's angry at her father, and what sort of stories people tell about her. The second type of man -- and I am in this category -- can fall in love with a woman only if he knows next to nothing about her.”

“True lovers may never know what love means. A man may love a woman out of his reach. She does not know he loves her, and he will never speak of it.”

“Why?" Why wouldn't he let her go? Why did he make her stay?She felt the brush of his lips over her hair."Because I need you.""You don't know me.""I know." His finger under her chin lifted her face. "But I've waited centuries for the chance.”