‚You couldn’t help it. One can’t help who one falls in love with.‘ Julie was offering this shabby cliché as if it were the panacea still sealed all glittering in its virgin polythene. […] I mean, if one falls in love with a married man there is nothing to do, is there?‘ It seemed that, to Julie, falling in love was an act as definable and as little controlled by the will, as catching a disease in an epidemic. That there came a moment when the will deliberately sat back and franked the desire, was as foreign to her as the knowledge that, had the will not retreated, desire would have turned aside and life, in the end, have gone as quietly on.
(aus dem seinerzeit sehr erfolgreichen Spannungsschmöker von Mary Stewart: The Ivy Tree, 1961)