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"A man," I said, "once told me that there is only one good: to act according to one's conscience. I think he was right and that all we pretend to do for others is worthless."

"Can you picture that sail disappearing on the horizon and me standing on the beach, watching it disappear?"
"Yes, I can," she said. And it was true; now, she could.

It was I who gave him those lifeless eyes, that sad mouth, his shuddering heart. His unhappiness is all my doing.

Time stood still in the bottom of the blue hourglass. No one bothered to turn it.

Everyone believed himself different, preferred himself above others. And all of them were wrong, she no less than the rest.

Oh, God! Why can't we break that hard, transparent shell that keeps us, all of us, shut in alone with ourselves? ... Only one moon in only one heart. But which one? Fosca's or mine? ... I would stop being myself ... To win all, you must lose all. Who made that law?

"I'm alone, I'm strong, I've done what I wanted to do," she said to herself.