"There aren't many irritations to match the condescension which a woman metes out to a man who she believes has loved her vainly for the past umpteen years."

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Almost Kien was tempted to believe in happiness, that contemptible life-goal of illiterates. If it came of itself, without being hunted for, if you did not hold it fast by force and treated it with a certain condescension, it was permissible to endure its presence for a few days

— Elias Canetti