I must love and be loved. I must feel that my dear and chosen friends are happier through me. When I have wandered out of myself in my endeavor to shed pleasure around, I must again return laden with the gathered sweets on which I feed and live. Permit this to be, blamed—permit a heart whose sufferings have been, and are, so many and so bitter, to reap what joy it can from the necessity it feels to be sympathized with—to love.

The Fortunes of Perkin Warbeck