"Each person was himself one alone. One oneness, a unit in a society, but always afraid, always alone. If I should scream, if I should call for help, would anyone hear would it even matter?"

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The intellectual is always showing off, the lover is always getting lost. The intellectual runs away. afraid of drowning; the whole business of love is to drown in the sea. Intellectuals plan their repose; lovers are ashamed to rest. The lover is always alone. even surrounded by people; like water and oil, he remains apart. The man who goes to the trouble of giving advice to a lover get nothing. He's mocked by passion. Love is like musk. It attracts attention. Love is a tree, and the lovers are its shade.

— Rumi