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?

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.

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.

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

The logic of the heart is absurd