The price for his intactness was incompleteness. - F. Scott Fitzgerald

I might have enjoyed the company of a woman or two... Or three but that had never
stopped me from loving you.

the victor belongs to the spoils

His youth seemed never so vanished as now in the contrast between the utter loneliness of this visit and that riotous, joyful party of four years before. Things that had been the merest commonplaces of his life then, deep sleep, the sense of beauty around him, all desire, had flown away and the gaps they left were filled only with the great listlessness of his disillusion.