You modern men, you children of reason, cannot begin to appreciate love as pure bliss and divine serenity.

It is merely the egoism of the man, who wants to bury a woman like a treasure. All attempts at using vows, contracts, and holy ceremonies have failed to bring permanence into the most changeable aspect of changeable human existence, namely love.

There is no describing the feeling of being mistreated by a successful rival in front of the woman you worship.

My heart is a void, dead, and this makes me sad.

Venus in Furs has caught his soul in the red snares of hair. He will paint her, and go mad.

You have corrupted my imagination and inflamed my blood.

Every man--I know this--turns weak, pliant, ridiculous as soon as he's in love.