human
Crusch:  "Forget what I said, my lord. Think of it as the foolish mumblings of a girl who knows not her place. I have no brothers, but it remains that I am a woman. I am unable to choose a life befitting my house’s crest…the path of a lion." She spoke the words unable to choose in a tone of profound resignation.
gpt
Crusch:  There was something she desperately wanted to do and couldn’t.
human
Fourier:  He felt a rush of heat in his raging heart. He opened his mouth, revealing a fang-like tooth. "Foolishness? Let others call it that. But you must never concede so yourself."
gpt
Crusch:  “…Your Highness?”
human
Fourier:  "I don’t know what desires you harbor or what you wish to do. But I am sure that the girl standing here before me today is the result of her efforts to achieve that goal. It seems you now regard that time as wasted, but…"
gpt
Fourier:  He had been utterly captivated by the sight of her standing there—her face, the sound of her voice, and the time they had spent together. And all these things he had fallen for had surely come about because of her constant striving to realize her wish, the wish she was now about to abandon. And so his pushback came from the fire of his own deeply seated passion. —To let that wish go would be a grave mistake. This, Fourier knew with every fiber of his being. "I’m convinced you are more intelligent than I. But intelligence has little to do with me. You are wrong! I know you are!"
human
Crusch:  "Your Highness…? You mean what I seek is wrong, as well?"
gpt
Fourier:  "I don’t know! I don’t know what is wrong. But something is."
human
Crusch:  Crusch looked taken aback by Fourier’s blunt pronouncement. Her ideas had been amply criticized in the past. She had been repeatedly told she was wrong, different from those around her, until she had finally begun to doubt her own thinking.
gpt
Fourier:  "Don’t give me that resigned smile! Perhaps your words are foolishness, but they belong to you. I will not laugh, and anyone who laughs does not have the vision to see where you are headed. You never know what might come of it—what flower might bloom. You are still just a bud! And who can say what wonderful blossom might emerge before it has fully come into itself?" Fourier was rather proud of having come up with this metaphor.