Love, Like Fire, Goes Out

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

The History Of A Man's Soul, Even The Pettiest Soul, Is Hardly Less Interesting And Useful Than The History Of A Whole People; Especially When The Former Is The Result Of The Observations Of A Mature Mind Upon Itself, And Has Been Written Without Any Egotistical Desire Of Arousing Sympathy Or Astonishment. Rousseau's Confessions Has Precisely This Defect – He Read It To His Friends.

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

Russian Ladies, For The Most Part, Cherish Only Platonic Love, Without Mingling Any Thought Of Matrimony With It; And Platonic Love Is Exceedingly Embarrassing.

We Practically Always Excuse Things When We Understand Them