His eyes drifted leisurely back up to my face and he smiled at me appreciatively, "Kelsey, when a man spends time with a beautiful woman, he needs to pace himself. I quirked my eyebrow at him and laughed. "Yeah, I'm a regular marathon alright. " He kissed my fingers. "Exactly. A wise man never sprints. . . in a marathon.
My external sensations are no less private to my self than are my thoughts or my feelings. In either case my experience falls within my own circle, a circle closed on the outside; and, with all its elements alike, every sphere is opaque to the others which surround it [] In brief, regarded as an existence which appears in a soul, the whole world for each is peculiar and private to that soul.