It is born of a look, of a smile, of a sigh, of a word; it springs up and fructifies more speedily than did Jonah's gourd, and none can say how it begins or how it will end.

It is the ever old, ever new riddle of creation, and the more narrowly its mystery is looked into the more impossible does it become of solution.

The lover of to-day, with centuries of examples at his back, is no wiser in knowledge than was his father Adam.
Although Lucian was thus stricken mad after the irrational methods of Cupid, he had sufficient sense not to examine too minutely into the reasons for this sudden passion.

He was in love, and admitting as much to himself, there was an end of all argument.

The long lane of his youthful and loveless life had turned in another direction at the signpost of a woman's face, and down the new vista the lover saw flowering meadows, silver streams, bowers of roses, and all the landscape of Arcadia.