When the heart is dry the eye is dry.

Et mon cœur est soumis, mais n’est pas résigné.

Love has no middle term; either it destroys, or it saves. All human destiny is this dilemma. This dilemma, destruction or salvation, no fate proposes more inexorably than love. Love is life, if it is not death. Cradle; coffin, too. The same sentiment says yes and no in the human heart. Of all the things God has made, the human heart is the one that sheds most light, and alas! most night.

Love resembles a tree: it bends under its own weight, deeply rooted in our being and sometimes turns green in the ruins of a heart.

Of all the things that God has made, the human heart is the one which sheds the most light, alas! and the most darkness.

The smaller it is the heart, more hatred houses.

The sunshine was delightful, the foliage gently astir, more from the activity of birds than from the breeze. One gallant little bird, doubtless lovelorn, was singing his heart out at the top of a tall tree.

The cruel of heart have their own black happiness.

She worked in order to live, and presently fell in love, also in order to live, for the heart, too, has its hunger.