"To hold in my arms the most loveable creature, and flying about her like lightning, so that everything about me faded away, and – to be honest, Wilhelm, I did swear to myself all the same that a girl I loved and had a claim upon should never waltz with anyone but me, and even if I lost my life over it. You know what I mean!" -- The Sorrows of Young Werther, by Goethe
This would be the title of Chapter Seventeen, if such a thing were possible. Instead, I have gone with, "The Sturm und Drang of Young Jasper." But you know what I mean!