Madonna in a Fur Coat (Penguin Modern Classics)

The pain of losing something precious – be it earthly happiness or material wealth – can be forgotten over time. But our missed opportunities never leave us, and every time they come back to haunt us, we ache. Or perhaps what haunts us is that nagging thought that things might have turned out differently. Because without that thought, we would put

Compressed into such a short space of time, they were all the greater and more vibrant than anything real could ever be.

and what was the point of holding to a spontaneous promise made at the moment of parting? Far better to sever ties there and then, without

The logic in our minds had always been at odds with the logic of life itself.

What was I in comparison? What did my soul ever do, apart from gnawing away at me like a woodworm?

All I could feel was a terrible hollowness in my heart. A door had opened, promising the sublime, but then it had slammed shut, robbing my life of all hope and meaning. I

‘Last night, especially after we came here – oh, the things I hoped for … I dreamed of a magic wand that would change me utterly, give me a new heart, one that combined the innocence of a little girl with the power to embrace all creation, so that when I woke up in the morning I would wake up to a new world. But the truth is another country … the s

Here it was, in all its starkness: the frenetic jubilation of a country no longer at war.

They had no interest in being real people: they preferred to be objects of desire and act like dolls.