She wanted the air he breathed in her lungs; fruits and flowers that did not come from his hands were tasteless. Her position in space is even reversed: the center of the world is no longer her place, but that of her lover; all roads lead to his house, and his house is the starting point. She uses his words and imitates his gestures. With his quirks and tics. Catherine in Wuthering Heights says, "I am Heathcliff"; this is the cry of every woman in love; she is another incarnation of her lover, a reflection of him, a double image of him: she is him. She let her own world collapse unexpectedly because she actually lived in his world. There is no greater happiness in a woman than to be acknowledged by her lover as a part of himself; to be associated with and identified with him when he says "we", to share his prestige and rule the rest of the world with him, and never to tire of repeating (even excessively) this pleasant "we". When the woman in love is indispensable to the one she absolutely needs, to the one who holds his head high in the world, pursues the necessary goals, and returns the world to her in the necessary form, she acquires that glorious possession, the absolute, through her submission. It was this conviction that brought her sublime pleasure; she felt herself exalted to the right hand of God. It didn't matter much to her if it was only a minor position, as long as there was always a place for her in the extremely amazing and orderly world. As long as she is loving and being loved,x56 line pipe, and is necessary for her lover, she feels that the legitimacy of her existence has been confirmed: she knows peace and happiness. This, perhaps, was the fate of Madame Essie when she was with Chevalier Dady, whose soul was condemned by conscience,316ti stainless steel, or of Juliette Drouet, who was strongly sheltered by Victor Hugo. But this intoxicating happiness rarely lasts. No man can truly be God. According to her wishful thinking, the relationship was sustained by the mystery of the absence of God; but the man who was revered as God, though not God, existed. This fact leads to all kinds of troubles of women in love. Her extraordinary fate is summed up in the famous words of Julier de Lespinas: "My friend, I love you forever, and I wait for you with pain." Of course, men's pain is also related to love, but their pain is either short or not too serious. Benjamin Constant wished to die for Madame Recamier, but he returned to normal after a year. Stendhal missed Mettild for years, but that missed beautified his life rather than destroying it. The woman, uns s32760 plate ,uns s31803 sheet, however, by assuming a secondary role and completely accepting attachment, has created a hell for herself. Every woman in love sees herself as the little mermaid in Andersen's fairy tale, who, through love, trades her tail for a woman's thigh, and then finds herself walking on the tip of a needle and a flaming charcoal fire. The man to be loved is not necessarily absolutely necessary, above chance and circumstance, and the woman is not necessarily not necessary to him; he is not necessarily in a position to justify the existence of the woman, even if he worships her; and he does not allow himself to be possessed by her. True love should accept the contingency of others, that is to say, accept his shortcomings, his limitations, his words and deeds without reason. It doesn't pretend to be a way of salvation, it's a relationship. Fetishistic love places absolute value on the beloved, which is obviously untrue from the beginning to all onlookers. "He is not worthy of love," whispered the people around the woman in love, and the younger generation laughed at the thought of some sickly hero like Count Gilbert. Once a woman discovers the shortcomings and mediocrity of her idols, she will be extremely disappointed. Novelists, such as Colette, have often written about this grief. This disillusionment is more cruel than the disillusionment of a child when he sees his father's prestige destroyed, because the woman has chosen the man herself, and she has given him all her existence. Even if the Chosen One is worthy of the deepest love, because his true face is somewhat vulgar and worldly, the man will no longer be fully loved as a kneeler before the Most High; she will feel fooled by the seriousness of the refusal to regard values as incidental — that is, to regard them as having their own roots in human existence. Her month of insincerity puts a barrier between her and the man she admires. She worshiped him, she adored him, but she was no friend to him, because she did not realize that he was in danger in the world, that his design was as fragile as his goal and himself; she saw him as faith and truth, so she misinterpreted his freedom-his hesitation and mental pain. This refusal to measure lovers on a human scale is the reason for many of the absurdities of women. A woman asks for a lover's favor. Do you promise? Then he is generous, rich, and great; he is like a king, a God. Refuse? Then he is greedy,uns s32750 sheet, mean, and cruel; he is a man like a devil and an animal. Perhaps one would like to raise an objection: should one be surprised by "no" if "yes" turns out to be such a shocking and extraordinarily excessive answer? If "No" betrays such abject self-interest, why wonder about "Yes"? Is there no place for man between the superman and the inhuman.