* * *
To die for a woman would perhaps, to a young and ardent lover, not be difficult; to wage incessant warfare with the world for her, that perhaps is not so easy. But it is the better test of love; and perhaps also the better preserver and replenisher of love. For
Little as people seem to be aware of it, love requires constant replenishing: no flame can burn without a feeding oil, no pool overflow with out a purling brook. Yet
The first ecstasies of love often blind both lover and lass to the care necessary for the nurture of love. Indeed,
To many treat love as if it were a passing whim; whereas in sober reality it is (or should be) a lasting emotion.
* * *
Love, with woman, is like the tides. And
Few women know the high-water mark of their love: they are always harboring the belief that it may rise still higher; and often they await that rise.
* * *
It is but the reflection of himself in his mistress that many a foolish lover loves.