Passions Are Merely Ideas In Their Initial

A Strange Thing, The Human Heart In General, And Woman's Heart In Particular.

Anyone Who Has Chanced Like Me To Roam Through Desolate Mountains And Studied At Length Their Fantastic Shapes And Drunk The Invigorating Air Of Their Valleys Can Understand Why I Wish To Describe And Depict These Magic Scenes For Others.

He In His Madness Prays For Storms, And Dreams That Storms Will Bring Him Peace.

What Of It? If I Die, I Die. It Will Be No Great Loss To The World, And I Am Thoroughly Bored With Life. I Am Like A Man Yawning At A Ball; The Only Reason He Does Not Go Home To Bed Is That His Carriage Has Not Arrived Yet.

I Was Ready To Love The Whole World, But No One Understood Me, And I Learned To Hate.