I do not now begin, - I still adore Her whom I early cherish'd in my breast; Then once again with prudence dispossess'd, And to whose heart I'm driven back once more. The love of Petrarch, that all-glorious love, Was unrequited, and, alas, full sad.
Johann Wolfgang von GoetheOh God, how do the world and heavens confine themselves, when our hearts tremble in their own barriers!
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe