You are one of those rare women who look beautiful when they cry.
She wanted to love him so much that it was almost unbearable.
I've already let you go twice. I'm not going to do it the third time. You know that, right?
Do I care about pleasure? Yes. But I don't believe in happiness.
He seemed to be playing hide and seek with himself. It was impossible to understand what he wanted, why he ran after her there, in the street.
True art must hurt. Who said that?
