Leave a lover with his thoughts for twenty-four hours and this is what will happen: At the salt mines of
they throw a leafless wintry bough into one of the abandoned workings. Two or
three months later they pull it out covered with a shining deposit of crystals.
The smallest twig, no bigger than a tom-tit's claw, is studded with a galaxy of
scintillating diamonds. The original branch is no longer recognizable. What I
have called crystallization is a mental process which draws from everything that
happens to new proofs of the perfection of the loved one. - Stendhal Salzburg