"Love is for fools. It is a surging of blood in the loins ... there is no mystery, and no magic. Find someone else, my boy."

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And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered- We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother

— William Shakespeare