“The life that I haveIs all that I haveAnd the life that I haveIs yours.The love that I haveOf the life that I haveIs yours and yours and yours.A sleep I shall haveA rest I shall haveYet death will be but a pause.For the peace of my yearsIn the long green grassWill be yours and yours and yours.”

“But one thing I beg of you, look on me as your friend; and if you want some help, advice, or simply want to open your heart to someone- not now, but when things are clearer in your heart- think of me.' He took her hand and kissed it. 'I shall be happy, if I am able...' Pierre was confused.'Don't speak to me like that; I'm not worth it!' cried Natasha...'Hush, hush your whole life lies before you,' he said to her.'Before me! No! All is over for me,' she said, with shame and humiliation.'All over?' he repeated. 'If I were not myself, but the handsomest, cleverest, best man in the world, and if I were free I would be on my knees this minute to beg for your hand and your love.”

“Not one word, not one gesture of yours shall I, could I, ever forget...”

“Love is life. All, everything that I understand, I understand only because I love. Everything is, everything exists, only because I love. Everything is united by it alone. Love is God, and to die means that I, a particle of love, shall return to the general and eternal source.”

“It's wrong, what you say, and I beg you, if you're a good man,to forget what you've said, as I forget it," she said at last."Not one word, not one gesture of yours shall I, could I, everforget...”

“Love hinders death. Love is life. All, everything that I understand, I understand because I love. Everything is united by it alone. Love is God, and to die means that I, a particle of love, shall return to the general and eternal source." These thoughts seemed to him comforting. But they were only thoughts. Something was lacking in them, they were not clear, they were too one-sidedly personal and brain-spun. And there was the former agitation and obscurity.”

“I am a king's daughter,And if I cared to care,The moon that has no mistressWould flutter in my hair.No one dares to cherishWhat I choose to crave.Never have I hungered,For that I did not haveI am a kings daughter,And I grow old withinThe prison of my person,The shackles of my skin.And I would run awayAnd beg from door to door,Just to see your shadowOnce, and never more. ”