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.

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

Oh! how many times we die before death!

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! you shall see how well I know how to love! I can only love; I know only how to love! With moderate faculties, we can yet do much when we center them on a single object.

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

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