And reading my love's letter, sad and sweet, I sigh,
Knowing that such a helpless, wooden god am I.
"The comparison of love to fire holds good in one respect," says Henry
Home, "that the fiercer it burns the sooner it is extinguished." "Love
me little love me long" says Marlowe. "The plainest man, that can
convince a woman," says Colton, "that he is really in love with her, has
done more to make her in love with him than the handsomest man, if he
can produce there is a silence in it that suspends the foot; and the
folded arms and the dejected head are the images it reflects." "Love is
but another name for that inscrutable presence by which the soul is
connected with humanity," says Simms. "The beings who appear cold," says
Madame Swetchine, "adore where they dare to love." "Man, while he loves,
is never quite depraved," says Charles Lamb. "It is possible," says
Terence, referring to the unquestionable temporary insanity of the
passion, "that a man can be so changed by love that one could not
recognize him to be the same person." "Solid love, whose root is virtue,
can no more die, than virtue itself," says Erasmus, who was probably
talking about a requited affection.
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