Unexpressed emotions will never die. They are buried alive and will come forth later in uglier ways. We become closed – not only to people’s pain – but also their happiness.
A love that does not discriminate seems to me to forfeit a part of its own value, by doing an injustice to its object; and secondly, not all men are worthy of love.
It is that we are never so defenseless against suffering as when we love, never no helplessly unhappy as when we have lost our loved object of its love.
