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She said nothing, not so much because she was fearful, but because she didn’t have the words to describe what had been taking place inside her for months now. Had she known what was taking place inside her, she would have told him, no doubt; and, understanding Anna, he would have understood. But it…

In the afternoon, they walk together along a path bordered with yellow reeds where, from time to time, herons drift softly by. It pains her, it pains her greatly, to be walking there with him, and not with Guillaume; and that pain will be inscribed in her for months to come. Nearly every time she’s…

At more settled moments in her life, Anna, each time some powerful emotion or torment came crashing down, would compare her situation, which was essentially very happy, to that of people who had had to endure some terrible misfortune foisted on them from without. And she would feel ashamed for bein…

[...] You can pretend to disclose them to your hairdresser or your gynecologist, to certain friends, but in reality you disclose nothing, you just appear to be talking about a love affair, an awkward choice to be made between two men, and by transforming your story into that of millions of men and …

Secrecy is the dross they are mixed with.