“Even now, talking about those days, tears well up in my eyes, my indefatigable heart pounds rebelliously and still suffers, and my former, stormy passion bursts into my soul with these remembrances! Tedious, profound, burning recollections oppress me. I don’t love him any longer: love for my first friend died and grew cold long since, but even now, when I start talking about him, it’s as if I begin to love him all over again! The human heart feels deeply - its innermost depths are immeasurable, dark, and strange; and that which is lost in it often comes to the surface unexpectedly and fills the whole being with long-lost, lifeless feeling.”

“I want to be a woman who lives totally abandoned to the first commandment: to love my Lord, my God, with all my heart. I don’t want the reputation that I love God, I don’t want to write songs about loving God, I don’t want to talk about loving God. I want to actually love God. When I close my eyes, I want my heart to move. When I close my eyes and I look at Him, I want to feel alive on the inside. I want to look at Him with a fire in my heart and it’s real.”

“I've loved him my whole life, and somewhere along the way, that love didn't change but grew. It grew to fill the parts of me that I did not have when I was a child. It grew with every new longing of my body and desire until there was not a piece of me that did not love him. And when I look at him, there is no other feeling in me.”

“By now, you know everything about Jackson Clarke, probably way more than anyone on earth wants to hear. This is all I have to add: I still think about him every day. When I see him, my heart jumps up in my chest. I long for him to talk to me, and whenever he even says hello, I feel a thousand times worse than I did before. I wish he was dead. I wish he still liked me.”

“I love him, I truly do. I feel it in my bones, in my soul, with all my heart. It's just like all those sentiments that I've read about in the past in those Hallmark cards.”

“And blessed be the first sweet suffering that I felt in being conjoined with love and the bow and the shafts with which I was pierced, and the wounds that run to the depths of my heart…” any man who loves this poem as I do, must be my master... And any man who feels as I do about these words must be my drinking companion.”