Were I Bettina, for I know to whom you allude, I should never have become Madame von Arnim; and had I been one of Lord Byron's many loves, I should be at this moment in a cloister.
You have touched me to the quick.

You do not know me, but you shall know me.

I feel within me something that is sublime, of which I dare speak without vanity.

God has put into my soul the roots of that Alpine flower born on the summits of which I speak, and I cannot plant it in an earthen pot upon my window-sill and see it die.

No, that glorious flower-cup, single in its beauty, intoxicating in its fragrance, shall not be dragged through the vulgarities of life! it is yours--yours, before any eye has blighted it, yours forever! Yes, my poet, to you belong my thoughts,--all, those that are secret, those that are gayest; my heart is yours without reserve and with its infinite affection.