Memoirs of a Madman
Two beings thrown into the world by chance, by something or other, and who happen to meet, fall in love because one is a woman and the other a man.-look at them panting for each other, walking out together at night and getting damp with the dew, looking at the moonlight and finding it diaphanous, admiring the stars, and saying in every tone of voice:'I love you you love me he loves me we love each other', and repeating it with sighs, with kisses - and then home they go, both impelled by an extraordinary ardour, for the organs of these two souls are violently overheating, and there they soon are grotesquely coupled roaring and sighing, both of them bent on reproducing another imbecile on earth, a wretch who will imitate them. Just look at them, more idiotic at this moment than dogs and flies,fainting away - and taking pains to hide from men's eyes their solitary pleasure, thinking perharps that happiness is a crime and pleasure something shameful...
I thought that woman was an angel...oh! how right Moliere was to compare her to a bowl of soup!