I love you as one should, to excess. With folly, delight and despair.

Ah! mon Dieu! how the mind shrinks by loving! it is true that the soul does not, but what can one do with a soul?

I love you as one should, to excess. With folly, delight and despair.

You soothe my soul. You fill it with so tender a sentiment that it is sweet to live during the time that I see you.

Oh! how many times we die before death!

I love the abandonment to impulse, I act from impulse only, and I love to madness that others do the same by me.

Oh! you shall see how well I know how to love! I can only love; I know only how to love! With moderate faculties, we can yet do much when we center them on a single object.