"I know not what love is; but this can I tell thee, that it is as if I now first began to live, and that I am so devoted to thee that I would this instant die for thee." "My Matilda, now for the first time do I feel what it is to be immortal." "Dear Henry, how infinitely good thou art. What a glorious spirit speaks from thee. I am a poor, insignificant girl." "How thou dost make me blush! Indeed I am what I am only through thee. Without thee I were nothing. What were a spirit without a heaven; and thou art the heaven that upbears and supports me." "How divinely happy should I be, wert thou as faithful as my father. My mother died shortly after my birth; yet my father weeps for her every day." "I deserve it not, yet may I be happier than he!" "I would joyfully live long by thy side, dear Henry. Certainly through thee I should become much better." "O! Matilda, even death shall not separate us." "No, Henry, where I am, wilt thou be." "Yes, where thou art, Matilda, will I forever be." "I comprehend not the meaning of eternity; yet I fancy that what I feel, when I think of thee, must constitute eternity." "Yes, Matilda, we are eternal, because we love each other." "Thou canst not believe, dearest, how fervently, when we came home early this morning, I knelt before the image of the holy mother, what unspeakable things I prayed to her. I thought that I should melt away in tears. It seemed as if she smiled upon me. I now for the first time know what gratitude is." "O beloved, Heaven has given me thee to adore. I worship thee. Thou art the holy one that carriest my wishes to God, through whom He reveals himself to me, through whom He makes known to me the fulness of His love. What is religion but an infinite harmony, an eternal unison of loving hearts? Where two are gathered together, He is indeed among them. Thou wilt be my breath eternally. My bosom will never cease to draw thee to itself. Thou art divine majesty, eternal life in the loveliest of forms." "Alas, Henry, thou knowest the fate of the roses. Wilt thou also press the pale cheek, the withered lips, with tenderness to thy own? Will not the traces of age be also the traces of bygone love?" "O that thou couldst see through my eyes into my spirit! But thou lovest me, and canst also believe me. I cannot comprehend what is said of the withering of charms. They are unfading! That which draws me so inseparably to thee, that has awakened in me such everlasting desire, is not of this world. Couldst thou but see how thou appearest to me, what a wonderful form penetrates thy shape, and everywhere is raying towards me, thou wouldst not fear age. Thy earthly shape is but a shadow of this form. The earthly faculties strive and swell that they may incarnate it; but nature is yet unripe; the form is only an eternal archetype, a fragment of the unknown holy world." "I understand thee, dear Henry, for I see something similar when I look upon thee."