Fyodor Dostoevsky,
The Brothers Karamazov — Part I, Book III, Chapter 4
(1880)
“ This game only tickled that insect lust I cherished in my soul. Five months later she married an official and left the town, still angry, and still, perhaps, in love with me. Now they live happily. Observe that I told no one. I didn't boast of it. Though I'm full of low desires, and love what's low, I'm not dishonourable. You're blushing; your eyes flashed. Enough of this filth with you. And all this was nothing much—wayside blossoms a la Paul de Kock—though the cruel insect had already grown strong in my soul. ”
