texts: That's the way a clock works. There's nothing wonderful about it. You merely feel you must put yourself in a romantic mood to add to your exhilaration. </s> <s> I can't possibly think of a better reason. </s> <s> It's false sentimentality.
labels: You analyze everything out of existence. You analyze me out of existence. I won't let you. Love is not so simple. Ninotchka, Ninotchka, why do doves bill and coo? Why do snails, coldest of all creatures, circle interminably around each other? Why do moths fly hundreds of miles to find their mates? Why do flowers open their petals? Oh, Ninotchka, Ninotchka, surely you feel some slight symptom of the divine passion... a general warmth in the palms of your hands... a strange heaviness in your limbs... a burning of the lips that is not thirst but a thousand times more tantalizing, more exalting, than thirst?