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no one understands the nature of love; it is like a bird of heaven that sings a strange language. it lights down among us, coming from whence we know not, going we know not how or when, striking out wild notes of music that make even fatigued and heavy hearts to throb and give back a tone of courage.
the sorts and kinds of love are infinite in number, infinite as the days of the years of time. each one of us is capable of many and various loves. we cannot love two creatures, not two dogs, with the same love. to each of those whom we love we offer a gem of different colour and value;