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

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

Oh! how many times we die before death!

The logic of the heart is absurd

You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a point of passion that unhinges my soul.

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