He is an incomprehensible boy--he always was.
I was left alone, with plenty of time for meditation, and I assure you my reflections were not pleasant.

O love, love, what madness you drive us into, by day and night! Surely it is better to be a sober professor of philosophy than to be in love, ever so wildly, or sorrowfully, or happily.

I do not wonder that a parcel of idiots have tried to prove that Dante loved philosophy and called it Beatrice.

He would have been a sober professor, if that were true, and a happier man.

But I am sure it is not true, for I was once in love myself..