“Please send me your last pair of shoes, worn out with dancing as you mentioned in your letter, so that I might have something to press against my heart.”

“Sweet moonlight, shining full and clear,Why do you light my torture here?How often have you seen me toil,Burning last drops of midnight oil.On books and papers as I read,My friend, your mournful light you shed.If only I could flee this denAnd walk the mountain-tops again,Through moonlit meadows make my way,In mountain caves with spirits play -Released from learning's musty cell,Your healing dew would make me well!”

“nothing puts me so completely out of patience as the utterance of a wretched commonplace when I am talking from my inmost heart.”

“I was on the point of breaking off the conversation, for nothing puts me so completely out of patience as the utterance of a wretched commonplace when I am talking from my inmost heart.”

“How often do I lull my seething blood to rest, for you have never seen anything so unsteady, so uncertain, as this heart.”

“If there is confusion in your head and in your heart, what more do you want! A man who no longer loves and no longer errs should have himself buried straight away.”

“Every day I observe more and more the folly of judging of others by ourselves; and I have so much trouble with myself, and my own heart is in such constant agitation, that I am well content to let others pursue their own course, if they only allow me the same privilege.”