Oh, Mercédès, I have spoken your name with sighs of melancholy, with groans of pain and with the croak of despair. I have spoken it frozen with cold, huddled on the straw of my dungeon....

Many are hurting for love, while many are suffering from a love that hurts.

And so the beauty was in being alone; but it was also the pain.

I am always thirsty for love; my longing for love is never enough.

But for a long time, and probably far too long, I had a secret wish: the adolescently romantic idea that there was someone out there for me; someone I hadn’t met yet who would ask...

The longing of my soul is to know and obey the Supreme-being,God.

Because we know he was simply a man, with weakness and frailties. Who yearned for the same things all of us do–to love and be loved

I wished a companion to lie near me in the starlight, silent and not moving, but ever within touch. For there is a fellowship more quiet even than solitude, and which, rightly understood, is solitude...