“Am I in love?—yes, since I am waiting. The other one never waits. Sometimes I want to play the part of the one who doesn’t wait; I try to busy myself elsewhere, to arrive late; but I always lose at this game. Whatever I do, I find myself there, with nothing to do, punctual, even ahead of time. The lover’s fatal identity is precisely this: I am the one who waits.”— Roland Barthes, A Lover’s Discourse: Fragments
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"I met the wolf alone and was devoured in peace."
— Edna St. Vincent Millay, from The Collected Poems; “True Encounter,”
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