“Lovers may be - and indeed generally are - enemies, but they never can be friends, because there must always be a spice of jealousy and a something of Self in all their speculations.”
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Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.
Friendship is Love without his wings!
I have a great mind to believe in Christianity for the mere pleasure of fancying I may be damned.