I’ve begun to picture my abdominal cavity occupied instead by a single glowing globe,

There is a sort of jealousy which needs very little fire; it is hardly a passion, but a blight bred in the cloudy, damp despondency of uneasy egoism.

The only obsession everyone wants: 'love.' People think that in falling in love they make themselves whole? The Platonic union of souls? I think otherwise. I think you're whole before you begin. And the love fractures you. You're whole, and then you're cracked open.

The beginning of compunction is the beginning of a new life.

Written By George Eliot

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