I ask this one thing: let me go mad in my own way.

Electra, grieving for death, for her father, as a nightingale grieving always.

No pity for these things, there is no pity but mine, oh father, for the pity of your butchering rawblood death.

Last night was a night of bad dreams and ambiguous visions.

Orestes beloved. as you die you destroy me. You have torn away the part of my mind where hope was .

This is Electra. Brilliant no more.

Oh my love take me there. Let me dwell where you are. I am already nothing, I am already burning. Oh my love, I was once part of you—take me too!

Long have we lived in shadows and shuddering: today I think our future is opening out.

Careful! There is war in women too, as you know by experience, I think.