It’s a craving that shouldn’t even exist, and yet you can’t wish it didn’t exist. Once it has hold of you, you can’t wish it away, because you’d have to wish your life away, it’s so bound up with it, and you can’t do that – what good would dying do? Afterward – with pleasure. In her arms – only too gladly. But before? That’s nonsense, because life is desire, and desire is life, and life can’t be its own enemy.