...mothers are often fondest of the child which has caused them the greatest pain.
To be wicked does not insure prosperity - for the inn did not succeed well.
Love is like a tree, it grows of its own accord, it puts down deep roots into our whole being.
A man trying to escape never thinks himself sufficiently concealed.
As for the author, he is profoundly unaware of what the classical or romantic genre might consist of.... In literature, as in allthings, there is only the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly, the true and the false.
The most powerful symptom of love is a tenderness which becomes at times almost insupportable.