Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires，
Let these be your desires：
To melt and be like a running brook
That sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love；
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and
Give thanks for another day of loving；
