But of all pains, the greatest pain is not to love, but to love in vain. I gaze on thee, and yearnings, sad in my bosom hide. And if I die, no soul shall pity me. I never heard of any true affection that was not eventually nipped.
My love will have a sense of pity in it, making it less a worship than before. As pure in thought as angels are, to know her was to love her. When things were as fine as could possibly be, I thought it was the spring; but alas it was she. I suffered much extremity for love.
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