"I wished I'd known weeks ago that we didn't have to be chaperoned. I remembered my old daydreams: the prince and I, alone together, cuddling and whispering... I probably would have wised up and brocken the engagement sooner."

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We think of women at every age: while still children, we fondle with a naïve sensuality the breasts of those grown-up girls kissing us and cuddling us in their arms; at the age of ten, we dream of love; at fifteen, love comes along; at sixty, it is still with us, and if dead men in their tombs have any thought in their heads, it is how to make their way underground to the nearby grave, lift the shroud of the dear departed women, and mingle with her in her sleep

— Gustave Flaubert