My heart long for something jolly as recently I'm permanently in good spirits and it's not uncommon to see moi purring cheerful sweet roundelays from Brigitte Bardot repertoire. What a funny thing that I endeavoured to divert my thoughts from all internal reflection formerly, and now... there is something effervescent, baroque in the air which apparently I was striked with.
Certainly, I owe my wild spirits and a bit carnal mind to my reading as it seems that I absorbed myself too deeply in reading to find a refuge in the lucid seventeenthcentury France. How jolly it all used to be! In the books of some memories it was the best time that ever sloshed over the world - the old time, the gay time, sweet and simple, as though time were young and hard, courteous and barbarous as the manners of troubadours cherished under ardent sun of Gascony and of Languedoc! Even though I may be somewhat grieved by this thought, the spirit of the splendid era agitates my soul that myself is perfectly at ease.