You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a point of passion that unhinges my soul.

You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a point of passion that unhinges my soul.

The logic of the heart is absurd

It is better to be hated for who you are, than to be loved for someone you are not.

I do not comprehend those rules of conduct that make us so content with self and so cold to those we love. I detest prudence, I even hate (suffer me to say so) those duties of friendship which substitute propriety for interest, and circumspection for feeling. How shall I say it? I love the abandonment to impulse, I act from impulse only, and I love to madness that others do the same by me.

If you can attain repose and calm, believe that you have seized happiness.