I read what I feel, and not what I see.

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

The logic of the heart is absurd

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

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

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