She fell in love with an extinct volcano.
Her strength and fire were aroused. Her strength flowed around his stillness, encircled his silence, encompassed his quietness. […] From the first, into this void created by his not wanting, she was to throw her own desires, but not meet an answer, merely a pliability which was to leave her in doubt forever as to whether she had substituted her desire for his. From the first she was to play the lover alone, giving the questions and the answers too.

—Anaïs Nin, Ladders to Fire