Some things I loved have vanished. A great many others have been given to me - Simone de Beauvoir

There was only one hope left to me - Andre. But could he fill this emptiness within me? Had he loved me as I loved him? At the beginning I think he did; or rather the question never arose of either of us, for we were so happy together. But when his work no longer satisfied him, did he come to the conclusion that our love was not enough for him? Did it disappoint him? I think he looks upon me as a mathematical constant whose disappearance would take him very much aback without in any way altering his destiny, since the heart of the matter lies elsewhere.

If I were the earth it would disgust me, all this vermin on my back, I’d shake it off.

You made me come to Paris. You pestered me to start living again. Well, now it's up to you to make my life livable. You mustn't let three whole days go by without coming to see me. … You wanted me to take notice of you. Now nothing else matters to me. I know you're alive and I feel emptiness inside me when you're away.