Blanche Stroeve was in the cruel grip of appetite. Perhaps she hated Strickland still, but she hungered for him, and everything that had made up her life till then became of no account. She ceased to be a woman, complex, kind and petulant, considerate and thoughtless; she was a Maenad. She was desire.
1919, W[illiam] Somerset Maugham, “chapter 30”, in The Moon and Sixpence, [New York, N.Y.]: Grosset & Dunlap Publishers […]