The Sorrows of Young Werther
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We took a few turns around the ballroom to catch our breath; then she sat down. The oranges I had managed to procure for us—they were the last ones left—were most refreshing, except for the fact that I felt a stab in the region of my heart every time she graciously gave a piece to a greedy girl sitting next to her.
I asked her for the second contredanse. She replied that she could give me the third and with the most engaging frankness assured me that she liked to dance the allemande. “It is customary here,” she explained...
I could not take my eyes off her dark eyes as she chattered; I could not look away from her animated mouth, her bonny cheeks; I was lost utterly in the infectious good spirits of everything she had to say, sometimes without even hearing the words with which she expressed it! That will give you some idea, since, after all, you know me well. In short, when we stopped in front of the pavilion I got out of the carriage like a dreamer, so lost in the twilit world around me that I scarcely noticed the music floating down to us from the illuminated ballroom.
A sorrow
I examine my own being, and find there a world, but a world rather than of imagination and dim desires, than of the distinctness and living power. Then everything swims before my senses, and I smile and dream While pursuing my way through the world
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`….misunderstanding and neglect occasion more mischief in the world than even malice and wickedness .’
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