her greatest sorrow was that she could find no one to love in return, since all the men were much too stupid and ugly to mate

He felt misery, loneliness, a terrible need for love.

I was unhappy and so is every soul unhappy which is tied to its love for mortal things; when it loses them, it is torn in pieces, and it is then that it comes to realize the unhappiness which was there even before it lost them.

Everyone loved her, but her greatest sorrow was that she could find no one to love in return, since all the men were much too stupid and ugly to mate with one so beautiful and wise.

She felt as if she had been on the outside of happiness her whole life.

She was a very beautiful person who was missing something very ugly. Her winnings were the absence of something, and this quality hung around her.

Her love had reached a point where now at last she was beginning to be unhappy, to be desperate.

A woman who had fallen out of love with her life

She had a strong, if erroneous, conviction of her own futility, and wished she had never come out of her backwater, where nothing happened except art and literature, and where no one ever got married or succeeded in remaining engaged.

She sometimes felt she had been cursed, as if by some malevolent goddess in a Greek myth, to lose everyone she ever loved.

I saw no cause for their unhappiness, but I was deeply affected by it. If such lovely creatures were miserable, it was less strange that I, an imperfect and solitary being, should be wretched.

She felt worthless and hollow. There was no hope of fixing this.
And when hope is gone, time is punishment.

And just when she felt more capable of love than she had ever been, she found herself alone.

She had gambled with marriage, just like most people, but she had gambled unluckily and had lost.