"One can imagine the look the two lovers exchanged; it was like a flame, for virtuous lovers have not a shred of hypocrisy."

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'Tis said of love that it sometimes goes, sometimes flies; runs with one, walks gravely with another; turns a third into ice, and sets a fourth in a flame: it wounds one, another it kills: like lightning it begins and ends in the same moment: it makes that fort yield at night which it besieged but in the morning; for there is no force able to resist it.

— Miguel de Cervantes