One word I might speak and then you would be implicated in my destruction; yet that word is hovering on my lips.

Oh! There is a fearful chasm; but I adjure you to beware!" "Ah, dearest friend!" I cried, "do not fear! Speak that word; it will bring peace, not death.

If there is a chasm our mutual love will give us wings to pass it, and we shall find flowers, and verdure, and delight on the other side." I threw myself at his feet, and took his hand, "Yes, speak, and we shall be happy; there will no longer be doubt, no dreadful uncertainty; trust me, my affection will soothe your sorrow; speak that word and all danger will be past, and we shall love each other as before, and for ever." He snatched his hand from me, and rose in violent disorder: "What do you mean?
You know not what you mean.

Why do you bring me out, and torture me, and tempt me, and kill me--Much happier would [it] be for you and for me if in your frantic curiosity you tore my heart from my breast and tried to read its secrets in it as its life's blood was dropping from it.

Thus you may console me by reducing me to nothing--but your words I cannot bear; soon they will make me mad, quite mad, and then I shall utter strange words, and you will believe them, and we shall be both lost for ever.