(no subject)
The Well of Loneliness:
"She craved with a wellnigh insatiable craving, she feared with a wellnigh intolerable terror--not the devil, she was brave with him when in her cups, but God in the person of Christ the Redeemer. Like a whipped cur she crawled to the foot of the Cross, without courage, without faith, without hope of mercy. Outraged by her body she must ruthlessly scourge it--no good, the lust of the eye would betray her. Seeing she desired and desiring she drank, seeking to drown one lust in another."
"She loved wildly, without either chart or compass. A rudderless bark it was, Wanda's emotion, beaten now this way now that by the gale, veering first to the normal, then to the abnormal; a thing of torn sails and stricken masts, that never came within sight of a harbour."
"Wanda was quiet, depressed and quite sober; she was wearing a straight-cut, simple black dress that somehow suggested a species of cassock." (I've been looking for a cassock dress ever since)
"She craved with a wellnigh insatiable craving, she feared with a wellnigh intolerable terror--not the devil, she was brave with him when in her cups, but God in the person of Christ the Redeemer. Like a whipped cur she crawled to the foot of the Cross, without courage, without faith, without hope of mercy. Outraged by her body she must ruthlessly scourge it--no good, the lust of the eye would betray her. Seeing she desired and desiring she drank, seeking to drown one lust in another."
"She loved wildly, without either chart or compass. A rudderless bark it was, Wanda's emotion, beaten now this way now that by the gale, veering first to the normal, then to the abnormal; a thing of torn sails and stricken masts, that never came within sight of a harbour."
"Wanda was quiet, depressed and quite sober; she was wearing a straight-cut, simple black dress that somehow suggested a species of cassock." (I've been looking for a cassock dress ever since)