Love never dies a natural death.
It dies because we don't know how
to replenish its source. It dies of
blindness and errors and betrayals.
It dies of illness and wounds; it dies
of weariness, of withering, of tarnishing.
Anais Nin
Days of absence, sad and dreary, Clothed in sorrow's dark array,
Days of absence, I am weary; She I love is far away.
William Shakespeare
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