Art, even the art of fullest scope and widest vision, can never really show us the external world. All that it shows us is our own soul, the one world of which we have any real cognisance. And the soul itself, the soul of each one of us, is to each one of us a mystery. It hides in the dark and broods, and consciousness cannot tell us of its workings. Consciousness, indeed, is quite inadequate to explain the contents of personality. It is Art, and Art only, that reveals us to ourselves.

Sarah, I__ going to take care of you whether you like it or not.

Honey, I have a feeling he doesn__ think of you as a friend. Have you seen the way he looks at you?__he glanced at him and as if he could feel her gaze, he turned his eyes on her. Soft and hard all at once. __eah,_ Mel said. __e promised to stop doing that.

You__e a good date,_ he said.__ou thought of it as a date?__e nodded. __rom the beginning.

She liked his unique smell, and it turned on all five of her senses, wanting to see him naked, touch him while naked, hear him as he moaned while he made love, taste his skin, and feel his naked body as she seduced him with the trailing of hungry fingers.

I__l always be your friend,_ he said. __our best friend, if you let me. But I want to be your lover, too._ He groaned and shifted in his chair. __oon. I want to be that soon._ Then a look came over him. __h Gina_I didn__ even court you! God, I should date you first before I beg you to take off your clothes!