"Knowledge subverts love: in proportion as we penetrate our secrets, we come to loathe our kind, precisely because they resemble us."

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But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds [vows] disgraced them." Viola: "Thy reason, man?" Feste: "Troth [Truthfully], sir, I can yield you none without words, and words are grown so false, I am loathe to prove reason with them.

— William Shakespeare