Human beings can reach such desperate solitude that they may cross a boundary beyond which words cannot serve, and at such moments there is nothing left for them but to bark.
He had not touched me. He did not need to. His presence had affected me in such a way that I felt as if he had caressed me for a long time.
Every word you wrote I ate, as if it were manna. Finding one’s self in a book is a second birth; and you are the only one who knows that at times men behave like women and women like men, and that all these distinctions are mock distinctions.
Even when they did not look at each other or speak to each other, he could feel a powerful current between them.