"Love, which absolves no loved one from loving, seized me so strongly with delight in him that, as you see, it does not leave me even now.
Love brought us to one death. Caina awaits him who quenched our life."
"One day, for pastime, we read of Lancelot, how love constrained him; we were alone, suspecting nothing. Several times that reading urged our eyes to meet and took the color from our faces, but one moment alone it was that overcame us. When we read how the longed-for smile was kissed by so great a lover, this one, who never shall be parted from me, kissed my mouth all trembling.
A Gallehault was the book and he who wrote it: that day we read no farther in it."
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