Are Not All Loves Secretly The Same?

Men Are Not The Causers Of History. History Itself, By A Pressure Of Events, Causes Men To Resort To Particular Actions.

A Rose By Any Other Name Would Get The Blame For Being What It Is-- The Colour Of A Kiss, The Shadow Of A Flame. A Rose May Earn Another Name, So Call It Love; So Call It Love I Will, And Love Is Like The Sea, Which Changes Constantly, And Yet Is Still The Same.

I Held Out My Book. It Was Precious To Me, As Were All The Things I'd Written; Even Where I Despised Their Inadequacy There Was Not One I Would Disown. Each Tore Its Way From My Entrails. Each Had Shortened My Life, Killed Me With Its Own Special Little Death.

I Will Draw You Back To Me. You Shall See. By A Chain Of Stars.

Oh, Love. Love Is Best Of All. There Is No Such Total Element, Not Even Pain. Who Has Ever Loved, Knows This. I Need Not Say More.