If you can attain repose and calm, believe that you have seized happiness.
Oh! how many times we die before death!
I love you as one should, to excess. With folly, delight and despair.
nothing is stronger or better founded than the sentiments for which we can give no reason.
You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a point of passion that unhinges my soul.
The logic of the heart is absurd
Oh! you shall see how well I know how to love! I can only love; I know only how to love! With moderate faculties, we can yet do much when we center them on a single object.
Calumny spreads like an oil-spot: we endeavor to cleanse it, but the mark remains.
You soothe my soul. You fill it with so tender a sentiment that it is sweet to live during the time that I see you.
none but the unhappy are worthy of friends; if your soul had never suffered never could you have entered mine.
Oh, my dear, my tragedy is that you don't need to be loved as I know how to love.
Ah! mon Dieu! how the mind shrinks by loving! it is true that the soul does not, but what can one do with a soul?
I do not comprehend those rules of conduct that make us so content with self and so cold to those we love. I detest prudence, I even hate (suffer me to say so) those duties of friendship which substitute propriety for interest, and circumspection for feeling. How shall I say it? I love the abandonment to impulse, I act from impulse only, and I love to madness that others do the same by me.
I read what I feel, and not what I see.
I love the abandonment to impulse, I act from impulse only, and I love to madness that others do the same by me.
