Never before had I known the sudden quiver of understanding that travels from word to brain to heart, the way a new language can move, coil, swim into life under the eyes, the almost savage leap of comprehension, the instantaneous, joyful release of meaning, the way the words shed their printed bodies in a flash of heat and light.
In the end, I always act from the heart, even if I also value reason and tradition. I wish I could explain why, but I don't know.
The heart does not go backward. Only the mind.
Then you must say to her, 'Madame, I observe that your heart is broken. Allow me to repair it for you.
