The moods of love are like the wind. But is it what we love, or how we love, that makes true good? Because, you see, I love you! Will your words be sad or sweet?
Girls we love for what they are; young men for what they promise to be. As I shall soon become.
A ruddy drop of manly blood. I love my love that loveth her, and anew her being moulds. Not as all other women are is she that to my soul is dear. Love has both its gall and honey in abundance.
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