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.

The logic of the heart is absurd

I do not comprehend those rules of conduct that make us so content with self and so cold to those we love. I detest prudence, I even hate (suffer me to say so) those duties of friendship which substitute propriety for interest, and circumspection for feeling. How shall I say it? I love the abandonment to impulse, I act from impulse only, and I love to madness that others do the same by me.

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

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

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

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