" Lost her taste in life and blindly expects me to give it back to her. We talk as people do in books. Strange, brittle, arrowed. Tall, tall windows covered with lace. Pillows under our feet. And life tasteless. And so eager, so eager that I should accomplish a miracle. People always expect miracles. "

― Anaïs Nin , A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin Henry Miller, 1932-1953