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“Emma become secretly thrilled that she had reached at a first try the uncommon best of light lives, in no way attained by means of mediocre hearts. She permit herself float at the side of Lamartine meanderings, listened to harps on lakes, to all the songs of death swans, to the falling of the leaves, the natural virgins ascending to heaven, and the voice of the Eternal discoursing down the valleys. She wearied of it, would now not confess it, persevered from dependancy, and at closing was amazed to sense herself soothed, and with out a more dissapointment at coronary heart than wrinkles on her brow.”
― Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary