To love

To love.

To love conveys to our mind the impression of extreme simplicity in the midst of the most
wonderful complexity.
To conceive this aright, we must take some peculiar tint from many loves and so mingle
them that, like the combination of hues in a sunbeam, the effect shall be as one to the eye.
Imagine something of the romantic enthusiasm, of the truth and constancy, of the dignified
purity, of the tender sweetness, of the self possession and intellect, of the devilish pleasure
combined together so equally and so harmoniously that we can scarcely say that one quality
predominates over the other.
Maybe real love is less imaginative,  less spirited, less serious and thus, while she resembles
each character individually, she stands wholly distinct from all.
On the whole, she is a lovely compound of goodness, truth and affection, with just so much
of passion and poetry as serve to lend to the picture that power an glowing richness of effect
which it would otherwise have wanted.