No sooner did I see that his attention was riveted on them, and that I might gaze without being observed, that my eyes were drawn involuntarily to his face; I could not keep their lids under control: they would rise, and the irids would fix on him. I looked, and had an acute pleasure in looking, - a precious yet poignant pleasure; pure gold, with a steely point of agony: a pleasure like what the thirst-perishing man might feel who knows the well to which he has crept in poisoned, yet stoops and drinks divine draughts nevertheless.
[...]
He made me love him without looking at me.
2 comments:
wow essa frase final. sweet the sting. parece que já estás a abraçar melhor essa história não? acabam por apanhar-nos, mais cedo ou mais tarde... as matreiras ;)
beijo grande*
Not the quote I'd go with, but Charlotte is brilliant all through. :)
**********************
Post a Comment