"What confusion I endured! What a morass of conflicted feeling! I felt drawn to him as strongly as if we were bound by an invisible sash. I wanted always to be near him, to inhale his peppery scent, to watch him as he worked, the way he held his breath when he concentrated and then released it all at once, in a forceful explosion of air. I wanted only to please him. I was prepared to do whatever it took to maintain and increase his regard for me, and I expended the full force of my reason and imagination striving to understand how I could best delight him. If I attended Mass regularly, if I listened attentively to his impromptu evening lessons, if I performed my duties as his assistant in catechism class, if I treated my family members with kindness, if, in short, I behaved like a perfectly devout and selfless young woman, expressing none of my own desires and living to fulfill the needs of others--his needs--then it seemed he would continue to bestow his generous affection on me. I strove to accomplish this, then, as best I could. But my piety was impure: it was desire that motivated me, desire for him, my priest."
--The Priest's Madonna, Amy Hassinger