“And look at that house, the one with wide porches and fine arches. It is the home of a man with material inclinations, with many business interests. He has a wife fair and comely in every part of her body, her spirit all sweetness and refinement. In the constitution of her person the elements of the soul are mingled with the delicacy of the body just as poetry combines the melody of meter with subtlety of meaning. She was formed to live by love and die by love, yet like most of the daughters of her sex, her father wronged her before she reached the age of eighteen and placed her neck in the yoke of a sinful marriage. Now her body is emaciated, melting like wax in the heat of her chained affections. It slowly disappears like a fair wind before a storm. She is being destroyed by a love for something beautiful which she can sense but cannot see. She yearns, longs for the embrace of death to emancipate her from her harsh life, to free her from a man who spends his days gathering gold and his nights counting it, who grinds his teeth cursing the hour in which he married a barren woman who could not bear him a son to carry on his name and inherit his wealth and treasures.

“Look at the house standing alone among the orchards. It is the home of a poet, imaginative and high-minded, spiritual in his religion. He has a wife, coarse of mind and common. She mocks his poems because she does not understand them. She belittles his actions because they are eccentric. Now he ignores her, having fallen in love with a married woman. This woman has a fiery intelligence and flows with grace. Her love has brightened his heart. She inspires his immortal words with her smiles and loving glances.”