human
Oh, children, what is this that men call love? And the roses seemed to quiver and bend lower over her to hear the answer:
gpt
Love is not love alone, but indeed is known by many names; it is unbridled violence; it is unslaked thirst; it is intolerable anguish; it is unbounded joy; it is endless lamentation, and as a breath stirred in the garden the trees seemed to throw high their blossoms on the scented breeze in a wild and gay response:
human
Whatever it is, good or ill, we wait for it, worship it, live for it, die for it. This seemed their song to the girl, and the white doves took it up and echoed it, and the thrushes warbled it in their passionate throats, and the nightingales in the dark parts of the garden trilled out in warm melody the same notes:
gpt
Wait for it, worship it, live for it, die for it,