"'Think of listening to Wagner for a fortnight on end with her, who takes about as much interest in music as a fish does in little apples; it will be fun!' And his hatred, like his love, needing to manifest itself in action, he amused himself with urging his evil imaginings further and further, because, thanks to the perfidies with which he charged Odette, he detested her still more, and would be able, if it turned out - as he tried to convince himself - that she was indeed guilty of them, to take the opportunity of punishing her, emptying upon her the overflowing vials of his wrath."
Marcel Proust, Swann's Way, p. 318
Here Swann is getting more and more angry with Odette, which, of course, explains why he should end up with her. I know it's an old chestnut, but the opposite of love isn't hate, it's indifference. Having said that, it's funny how we will romanticize our beloved way out of proportion, and then demonize her with the same exaggerated magnitude of scale. Part of this, as I've previously opined, is our own self-absorption. Just as we are capable of, and for that matter worthy of, that great love which eludes the ordinary man, we must also be victims of extraordinary cruelty, endless "perfidies." As my friend Alfonso and I will often propose, mainly when we're complaining about administrators, don't assume Machiavellian cunning when it's just clumsy indifference.
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