Yes, there is some one I love, though he has not told me yet that he even loves me.

You yourself never loved; you never love! Yes, I too can love; you yourselves can tell it from the past. Is it not so?

No one but a woman can help a man when he is in trouble of the heart.

I have a sort of empty feeling; nothing in the world seems of sufficient importance to be worth the doing.

Do you believe in destiny? That even the powers of time can be altered for a single purpose? That the luckiest man who walks on this earth is the one who finds… true love?

And yet, unless my senses deceive me, the old centuries had, and have, powers of their own which mere 'modernity' cannot kill.

Love is, after all, a selfish thing; and it throws a black shadow on anything between which and the light it stands.