Suspicion is the cancer of friendship.
Sameness is the mother of disgust, variety the cure.
I know and love the good, yet, ah! the worst pursue.
Books have led some to learning and others to madness.
I freeze and burn, love is bitter and sweet, my sighs are tempests and my tears are floods, I am in ecstasy and agony, I am possessed by memories of her and I am in exile from myself.
The greater I am, the greater shall be my efforts.