“She is so beautiful. Perfect. Mine.No. Not mine. I am hers.”

“I am not mine.You are not yours.No one can be his own.I am not yours.You are not mine.No one can belong to another.”

“They fit so perfectly on her hip, but she always had to give them back to their mothers.Not this baby. This one is mine. With David as dad.”

“I am going to die of love....daroga....I am dying of love .... That's how it is... I loved her so! And I love her still...daroga.....and I am dying of love for her, I tell you! if you knew how beautiful she was when she let me kiss her...It was the first ...time, daroga, the first time I ever kissed a woman.. Yes, alive... I kissed her alive.... And she looked as beautiful as if she had been dead!”

“That moment she was mine, mine, fair,Perfectly pure and good: I foundA thing to do, and all her hairIn one long yellow string I woundThree times her little throat around,And strangled her. No pain felt she;I am quite sure she felt no pain.As a shut bud that holds a bee,I warily oped her lids: againLaughed the blue eyes without a stain.And I untightened the next tressAbout her neck; her cheek once moreBlushed bright beneath my burning kiss . . .”

“I think she is beautiful, but in a way that is not friendly, like in a way that just makes me want her to be mine.”