Part 4 — ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

Adieu, my son, I love you and I die All philosophy is akin to atheism And when love is sure of itself and knows response Can any one prevent a gossip Each one knows what the other is about to say Good and bad days succeeded each other almost regularly Great sorrows neither accuse nor blaspheme—they listen Happiness of being pursued He who is loved by a beautiful woman is sheltered from every blow I neither love nor esteem sadness It is a pity that you must seek pastimes Man who suffers wishes to make her whom he loves suffer No longer esteemed her highly enough to be jealous of her Pure caprice that I myself mistook for a flash of reason Quarrel had been, so to speak, less sad than our reconciliation She pretended to hope for the best Terrible words; I deserve them, but they will kill me There are two different men in you We have had a mass celebrated, and it cost us a large sum What human word will ever express thy slightest caress What you take for love is nothing more than desire