Don't expect me to be sane anymore. Don't let's be…
““Don't expect me to be sane anymore. Don't let's be sensible. It was a marriage at Louveciennes—you can't dispute it. I came away with pieces of you sticking to me; I am walking about, swimming, in an ocean of blood, your Andalusian blood, distilled and poisonous... I can't see how I can go on living away from you—these intermissions are death. How did it seem to you when Hugo came back? Was I still there? I can't picture you moving about with him as you did with me. Legs closed. Frailty. Sweet, treacherous acquiescence. Bird docility. You became a woman with me. I was almost terrified by it. You are not just thirty years old—you are a thousand years old. Here I am back and still smouldering with passion, like wine smoking. Not a passion any longer for flesh, but a complete hunger for you, a devouring hunger.””
About This Quote
This interpretation was drafted with AI assistance. It is one reading of the quote, not the author's own explanation.
A lover describes an all‑consuming, painful yearning that blurs identity and reality, feeling both terror and devotion.
In simple terms: Intense, painful love that feels like a burning hunger.
Key Takeaway
Embrace the depth of feeling, but seek balance.
Themes
love
obsession
identity
passion
pain
Mood
despair
intense
reflective
Type
poetic
dramatic
confessional
When to use this quote
- relationship crisis
- artistic creation
- personal transformation
Key Concepts
existential yearning
psychological intensity
transcendence
Questions to Reflect On
- How does love transform self‑identity?
- When does passion become harmful?
A Different Perspective
The intensity may become self‑destructive if unchecked.