"That is why I shudder. What
could be more dreadful than to fall into the clutches of that
merciless foe to peace? He rends one's heart into shreds; he stabs in
the dark; he thrusts, cuts and slashes and the wounds never heal; he
blinds without pity; he is overbearing, domineering, ruthless and his
victims are powerless to retaliate. Love is the greatest tyrant in
all the world, Mr. Schmidt, and we poor wretches can never hope to
conquer him. We are his prey, and he is rapacious. Do you not shudder
also?"
"Bless you, no! I'd rather enjoy meeting him in mortal combat. My
notion of bliss would be a fight to the death with love, for then the
conflict would not be one-sided. What could be more glorious than to
stand face to face with love, hand to hand, breast to breast, lip to
lip until the end of time? Let him cut and slash and stab if you
will, there would still be recompense for the vanquished. Even those
who have suffered most in the conflict with love must admit that they
have had a share in the spoils. One can't ignore the sweet hours when
counting up the bitter ones, after love has withdrawn from the tender
encounter.
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