For Passion, Be It Observed, Brings Insight

Though Your Vulgarian Does Not Readily Admit That Feelings Can Change Overnight, Certainly Two Lovers Often Part Far More Abruptly Than They Came Together.

The Innocence Of Virgins Is Like Milk Which Turns When Exposed To A Clap Of Thunder, To A Tart Smell, To A Hot Day, To The Merest Nothing.

Everything Becomes Agitated. Ideas Quick-march Into Motion Like Battalions Of A Grand Army To Its Legendary Fighting Ground, And The Battle Rages. Memories Charge In, Bright Flags On High; The Cavalry Of Metaphor Deploys With A Magnificent Gallop; The Artillery Of Logic Rushes Up With Clattering Wagons And Cartridges; On Imagination's Orders, Sharpshooters Sight And Fire; Forms And Shapes And Characters Rear Up; The Paper Is Spread With Ink - For The Nightly Labor Begins And Ends With Torrents Of This Black Water, As A Battle Opens And Concludes With Black Powder.

Suffering Predisposes The Mind To Devoutness; And Most Young Girls, Prompted By Instinctive Tenderness, Lean Towards Mysticism, The Obscurer Side Of Religion.

However Gross A Man May Be, The Minute He Expresses A Strong And Genuine Affection, Some Inner Secretion Alters His Features, Animates His Gestures, And Colors His Voice. The Stupidest Man Will Often, Under The Stress Of Passion, Achieve Heights Of Eloquence, In Thought If Not In Language, And Seem To Move In Some Luminous Sphere. Goriot's Voice And Gesture Had At This Moment The Power Of Communication That Characterizes The Great Actor. Are Not Our Finer Feelings The Poems Of The Human Will?