I once wrote about a young man in love. He did not sleep all night, and I listened to his beating heart.
“What is it beating against?” I asked.
“Can’t you hear?” said the young man, “It is doing battle with my reason.”
It beat as if against the walls of a dungeon, this little, inexperienced, desperate human heart.
American writer (1983)
Painting by Balthus: The Sleeping Girl (1943)