"In the loss of an object we do not proportion our grief to the real value it bears, but to the value our fancies set upon it."

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Yes, I was infatuated with you: I am still. No one has ever heightened such a keen capacity of physical sensation in me. I cut you out because I couldn't stand being a passing fancy. Before I give my body, I must give my thoughts, my mind, my dreams. And you weren't having any of those.

— Sylvia Plath