I had undergone so much that day through grief, and that night through a hundred emotions, that I was no longer fully master of myself.

Her words robbed me, I think, of my last lingering shred of reason.
"Love you, Madonna ?" I echoed, in a voice that was as unlike my own as was the mood that then possessed me.

"You are the air I breathe, the sun that lights my miserable world.

You are dearer to me than honour, sweeter than life.

You are the guardian angel of my existence, the saint to whom I have turned morning and evening in my prayers for grace.