“Did you think loving another was a profit-driven harvest: choosing the ripe and discarding the rot? Love is complete, whole, fearless; otherwise it is merely a banquet, a feast planned to sate a hunger for variety, not commitment to one choice. Honest love does not cringe at the first roll of thunder; nor does it flinch when faced with the lightning flash of human sin. I always knew you were caressing me with fingers hardened by swords and that your hands stroking my breasts also drew blood. My error was in believing that you were more than the visage of your mind.”
Book:Desdemona
