Where is the bar that can close in the gates of love? The gentle teardrops of lovers’ eyes are sure to proclaim its presence.

Those that love not live only for themselves: as to those that love, their very bones are for others’ occasions.

They say it is to taste again of love that the soul hath consented once more to be encased in bone.

Love maketh the heart tender towards all: and tenderness yieldeth that priceless treasure called friendship.

The blessing of the blessed, they say, is only the reward of a constant love.

They are fools who say that love is for the righteous alone: for even against the evil-minded love is the only ally for a man.

Behold how the sun burneth the boneless worm: even so doth Righteousness burn the man that doth not love.

Behold the man that loveth not: he will know prosperity only when the sapless tree of the desert putteth forth leaves.

Of what avail is a lovely outside, if love, the soul’s ornament, hath no place in the heart?

The seat of life is in Love: who hath it not is only a mass of skin-encased bone.