When a woman's heart is flowing over for the first time with deep and passionate love, she is all love. Every faculty of her soul rushes together in the intensity of the one feeling; thought, reflection, conscience, duty, the past, the future, they are names to her light as the breath which speaks them; her soul is full.

Of all violent passions, the least unbecoming to a woman is love.

Dans les premières passions les femmes aiment l'amant, et dans les autres elles aiment l'amour.

Oh, all
Know love is woman's happiness.

Oh! say not woman's heart is bought
With vain and empty treasure.
* * * * *
Deep in her heart the passion glows;
She loves and loves forever.

Love, the poet said, is woman's whole existence.

He was the first, the only love her life, and in a nature like hers such passions take deep root and die-hard.

Of all pursuits, love is best,
Be it sensuous or sublime.

The beauty in her lover's eyes
Was admiration of her own.

Woman has nothing but her affections, — and this makes her at once more loving and less loved.

Toute vraie passion ne songe qu'a elle.

She loved with so much passion as she loved with ignorance. She did not know whether it were good or evil, beneficent or dangerous, necessary or accidental, eternal or transitory, permitted or prohibited: she loved.

She was one of those, who, having, once begun, would be always in love.

True beauty in a woman is reflected in the caring that she lovingly gives, the passion that she shows.