For when you take full part in life you do not see this, you know nothing about it.
You pass blindly from one extreme to the other.

The man who uttered the two cries that I still hear, "Everything!" and "Nothing!" had forgotten the first when he was carried away by the second.
Who shall say?
I wish some one would tell.

What do words matter or conventions?
Of what use is the time-honoured custom of writers of genius or mere talent to stop at the threshold of these descriptions, as if full descriptions were forbidden?
The thing ought to be sung in a poem, in a masterpiece.

It ought to be told down to the very bottom, if the purpose be to show the creative force of our hopes, of our wishes, which, when they burst into light, transform the world, overthrow reality.
What richer alms could you bestow on these two lovers, when again love will die between them?
For this scene is not the last in their double story.

They will begin again, like every human being.