Sometimes he would cast a furtive, questioning glance at her. Her laziness, her incredible ability to do nothing at all and never to think about the future, her remarkable capacity for finding happiness in a long series of empty, inactive, indistinguishable days-- all this struck him at times as outrageous, even verging on repulsive. He knew very well that she loved him and that, for that reason, she wasn't going to grow tired of him any sooner than he would of her, but this situation told him that what he was now seeing of her lifestyle was representative of her deepest essence, and he realized that it was only thanks to their mutual passion that he was able to put up with her perpetual stagnation.
Francois Sagan, La Chamade
