“Bitterrness must be the taste of enmity. That would be hate. “To love one’s friends and hate one’s enemies” is a standard archaic prescription for moral response. Love and hate construct between them the machinery of human contact. Does it make sense to locate both poles of this affect within the single emotional event of eros? Presumably, yes, if friend and enemy converge in the being who is its occasion. The convergence creates a paradox, but one that is almost a cliché for the modern literary imagination. “And hate begins where love leaves off…” whispers Anna Karenina, as she heads for Moscow Station and an end to the dilemma of desire.”