none but the unhappy are worthy of friends; if your soul had never suffered never could you have entered mine.

Oh, my dear, my tragedy is that you don't need to be loved as I know how to love.

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

If you can attain repose and calm, believe that you have seized happiness.

The logic of the heart is absurd

nothing is stronger or better founded than the sentiments for which we can give no reason.

Oh! how many times we die before death!