that can stoop, and, full of infinite compassion, feel that where others despise it can defend, and comprehend what has been made in its own unlikeness.
Moreover, love is for ever unreasoning, and the deepest and most passionate love is that which survives the death of esteem.
Friendship needs to be rooted in respect, but love can live upon itself alone. Love is born of a glance, a touch, a murmur, a caress; esteem cannot beget it, nor lack of esteem slay it. Questi che mai da me non fia diviso, shall be for ever its consolation amidst hell. One life alone is beloved, is beautiful, is needful, is desired: one life alone out of all the millions of earth. Though it fall, err, betray, be mocked of Others and forsaken by itself, what does this matter?—this cannot alter love. The more it is injured by itself, derided of men, abandoned of God, the more will love still see that it has need of love, and to the faithless will be faithful.
'You love me as angels might love!' he said once to her, roused to some momentary sense of wonder, recognition, gratitude.
Sometimes she seemed to him, indeed,
