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— Rudyard Kipling"No one accuses the Gunner of maudlin affection for anything except his beasts and his weapons. He hasn't the time. He serves at least three jealous gods—his horse and all its saddlery and harness; his gun, whose least detail of efficiency is more important than men's lives; and, when these have been attended to, the never-ending mystery of his art commands him."
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His friends were those of his own blood or those whom he had known the longest; his affections, like ivy, were the growth of time, they implied no aptness in the object.
— Robert Louis Stevenson
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. . . . [P]ersons who love very much, easily take offense at trifles. No doubt your excessive affection for me makes you a little diffident about mine. But there is no harm done; I hope you will soon be over this slight jealousy and be convinced that nothing can change the genuine affection Our Lord has given me for you
— Vincent de Paul
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