All is desire, all is revery.

There is no reality which holds him when the heart is young; there is no oak so gnarled that it may not give birth to a dryad; and if one had a hundred arms one need not fear to open them; one has but to clasp his mistress and all is well.
As for me, I did not understand what else there was to do but love, and when any one spoke to me of other occupations I did not reply.

My passion for my mistress had something fierce about it, for all my life had been severely monachal.

Let me cite a single instance.

She gave me her miniature in a medallion.