Heed my words, daughter, if you ever mean to be happy: Never give yourself to a man.

The bud of a rose grows in darkness. It knows nothing of the sun, yet it pushes at the darkness that confines it until at last the walls give way and the rose bursts forth, spreading its petals into the light. I love him.

It’s not till sex has died out between a man and a woman that they can really love. And now I mean affection. Now I mean to be fond of (as one is fond of oneself) --to hope, to be disappointed, to live inside the other heart.

This was the price for the the strange life she had chosen, but she had gone into it with eyes open, and there was no profit in regret.

There was always a way, when one knew what one wanted.

Eran extraños los caminos del corazón. Uno podía pasar años habituado a una pérdida, resignado, y después, con un pensamiento casual, el dolor volvía a la superficie, agudo y desnudo como una herida reciente.